


Tracing Memories

by OverlordWaffles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Artist Dean, Attempted Murder, Blow Jobs, Bobby's House, Bottom Dean Winchester, Branding, Burns, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Destiel - Freeform, Dominant/Top Castiel, Dry Humping, F/M, First Time, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Gags, Gangs, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel, Human Gabriel, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Photography, Kidnapping, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Murder, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Piercings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Gabriel, Protective Michael, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Public Display of Affection, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roommates, Sub Castiel, Sub Dean, Submissive/Bottom Dean, Tattoo Artist Dean, Tattoos, Teacher Castiel, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Wings, mentions of past suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 42
Words: 151,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordWaffles/pseuds/OverlordWaffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years free from the Lucifer Gang, Dean becomes a barista at a local coffee shop near where Sam goes to school. One day a blue eyed angel walks in the door and catches Dean's attention. Castiel fells instantly for the hot bartender who quickly becomes his friend. One day when Michael, Dean's room mate and a photography major, wins a contest with a picture of Dean, one of Lucifer's gang members tracks down his favorite lost pet years after the last time he traumatized the Winchesters. The brothers and their friends will have to face demons from the past and unexpected places in order to recover from the aftermath of Hell's tortures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Castiel noticed when he stepped into the coffee shop and breakfast bar is how wonderful everything smelled. He was delighted by the rich aroma of the coffee, the smell of sausage and bacon in the air; The rich scent of cooking biscuits and eggs. It was heaven on earth, this little shop on the edge of campus. The second thing he noticed was the soft crackle of a record playing old jazzy music in the background. On the door hung a sign with the store hours, which Castiel already knew he would be memorizing stating "Open 5am-10pm. Breakfast Menu Available 6-11am". The promise of having fresh coffee and good breakfast food any morning he wanted was going to drain his bank account. He fell in love with the place even before he laid eyes on the handsome barista making another university student a cup of rich steaming coffee.

Nearing the counter, Cas bit at his bottom lip, trying to clear his head and wake up. It was 8 in the morning, and he couldn't believe he'd already lost his summer sleep schedule. Back home he would always wake up at 6 or 7 and go out for a run, but now that classes had started and he had to walk to class every morning for his first lecture at 9am, he was finding himself slipping into bad habits. He had heard about "Insomniac's Heaven" from his brother Gabriel over the summer, and had been dying to visit the cozy coffee shop for weeks now. He'd been going to school here for two years already, but somehow he had never run across this slice of heaven just a block out of his way on the walk to campus.

Reaching the front of the line (he was surprised there were so many students here at this hour, classes only started last week) Cas had to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat as he was meet full blast with a pair of the most stunning green eyes he'd ever seen hiding behind black rimmed glasses. The barista flashed a bright, confident white smile and asked for his order in a deep, rumbling voice that didn't make it any easier for Cas to focus on the task right in front of him. He was opening his mouth to respond when a loud noise suddenly caught his attention from behind the counter, and his eyes flashed over to another gorgeous male worker. He had a mass of dark hair on his head that nearly matched Cas' on raven color.

The barista's eyes followed his gaze, and a slight frown pulled his brows down in a little furrow. He rolled his eyes at the racket the other man was making as he brought out a large tray of fresh breakfast food to serve to waiting guests. The darker haired man smiled big over at the barista's glance as Castiel brought his attention back to the fairer haired man behind the counter. "I'm sorry, what was your order? Mike can be a bit loud and distracting this early in the morning." The two workers shared a look before the green eyed barista was looking back at Castiel for his order.

Cas' eyes flashed between the man named Mike, and the man at the counter waiting on him, soaking in the freckles, the green gaze, the sandy brown hair and the stubble coating his strong jaw and down his neck across his adam's apple. He cleared his throat and flushed slightly, shaking his head as he came back to himself. "Oh, no, no. It's alright. I envy his energy this early in the morning." He let out an awkward chuckle, his flush darkening as he saw the barista's smile grow. His eyes got stuck on silver as his eyes took in the fact the man had a silver ball stud just at the corner of his lower lip, drawing his eyes to those plush incredibly full and pink lips that were stretched into an easy smile. He felt his heart hammer in his chest, and struggled to breath. Fuck. He swallowed hard, again, and looked back at the menu over the man's head, pretending to look at the words he'd already glanced over.

"I-I'll, uhm, have a coffee, black, medium or whatever you call it, and uhm." He felt like a fool as he struggled to get his order out to the Adonis in front of him at 8 in the morning with a line of at least five people behind him waiting for him to get on with it already. "A-and one of your biscuits." He nearly groaned in relief when he got the words out, fiddling with his debit card as the man punched in the order with a quick flurry of fingers.

"Alright. One medium coffee and a biscuit coming on up." The barista said energetically, swiping the card and brushing fingers across Cas' when he handed it back. Cas nearly hyperventilated, realizing how ridiculous he was being that morning in front of a man he'd only seen once, who accidentally touched his hand when handing back his damn debit card. God, Cas must've look like a complete idiot blushing and stammering and hurrying to the little counter that would pop out his order in a few minutes.

Cas nearly fled the shop when he had his things in hand, and forgot that he had gotten there early so he could sit down and take his time to admire the shop. He repeatedly called himself an idiot for running at the first sign of a hot boy the whole walk to class the rest of the morning. It's not like the man knew he was gay, that he was completely smitten already. The poor man probably thought he was just tired and half asleep, like the other students stumbling through the doors as he retreated.

He hid for a week, before he ventured back. Even with just a simple biscuit and coffee, Cas could tell the food was heavenly and fresh, and he wanted to see what their non-breakfast menu options were besides coffee. Maybe he'd finally found his study spot for the semester.

Walking back into Insomniac's Heaven at 3pm on a Thursday, Cas was relieved and terrified that the places was much emptier than it had been the last time he ventured in. The alluring scent of cinnamon and vanilla mingled in the air and his mouth watered as he made his way to the empty counter. It took him a moment to realize that no one was there to take his order just when the back door swung open and the hot barista he'd had on his mind all week walked out with a fresh tray of muffins that made Cas actually moan at the aroma wafting his way.

To Cas' horror and humiliation the man heard the little rumble of sound and cracked a smile his way as he set the tray down to be sorted into the right spots after a moment. He laughed softly at the look of embarrassment on Cas' face and came closer as he wiped his hands on the apron around his waist.

"Hello again!" A flash of white as the man's smile spread wider was distracting enough Cas barely realized the man's words of recognition.

"I've been here once. How did you recognize me?" Cas blurted with a squinty eyed look before he realized his mental filter was screwing up again. Damnit, that was why he hated social interactions and had never been in a relationship before.

The man's eyes twinkled behind what Cas recognized now were very generic 'hipster' glasses. He hadn't even thought about how cliché they were with them sitting on that pretty face and an old record playing in the background. He thought it recognized the Eagles. "I have a good memory." He winked. "Another black coffee and biscuit?"

Cas openly gaped, shaking his head at the man's snort of laughter in response. "H-how!" He wondered what those eyes looked like completely exposed to the light, with no glasses to cast shadows around his features, and the full force of forest, emerald, grass, sea foam green.

The man stuck his hand out suddenly, smile still in place as Cas got lost in the thought of green eyes changing to so many different colors in different lights, with different emotions. "Name's Dean."

Cas blinked stupidly, staring at the hand before rushing to slot his narrow fingers in against the callous rough hand offered to him. He nearly moaned again. "Castiel." He squeaked.

"So was that a yes to the bc and b?" Dean quirked his brow up in question as his hand slid back over the counter. Cas was still struggling with the constant chant of 'greengreengreen' in his head as he noticed flecks of gold in the light.

Castiel laughed softly at the way Dean shortened his order and shook his head, forcing himself to focus. Focus, Cas, damnit. "No. Plain black coffee is reserved for early mornings when I need nothing but bitter scalding flavored water on my taste buds to help wake me up." He couldn't believe he'd said that, and his baby blue eyes darted up to green hoping to see if they'd changed hue. "No." His eyes flashed to the tray of slight steaming muffins and he licked his lips unconsciously, thinking about those calloused hands working the ingredients together in a bowl. Fuck. He was helpless. "I would like one of those though." Dean probably used a mixer, anyways. There were at least two dozen muffins there. He was fantasizing. He was hopeless.

"Good choice. I just finished making them. Cinnamon and vanilla with a splash of brown sugar on top. From scratch." Dean said with pride.

Cas was floored again. Hot and a good cook! Fuck him. "Dear lord it's like you want my taste buds to melt." He said under his breath, flushing in realization that he couldn't shut up in front of this man. "Anything you'd recommend to go with it?"

Dean's contagious smile still stretched his lips as he plucked one of the fresh muffins from it's spot and handed it to him. "Hmm. We have some good french vanilla coffee, or I could make you a specialty drink with a thousand carbs and a bucket of sugar in it." He offered with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Cas felt his insides flutter as he realized Dean had just read him like a book. He couldn't stand overly sweet drinks and all that whipped crap that topped off the blended coffee drinks. "Finally someone that understands!" He let out a dramatic sigh and smile, courageously staring right into Dean's dazzling green eyes. "French vanilla would be perfect."

Dean chuckled, stretching as he walked over to the coffee machine, loading up the coffee grounds. Cas didn't even realize he was supposed to go wait at the other end of the counter as he watched Dean's hands work. Dean didn't comment as he filled the machine, set the cup under the nozzle and listened to the machine flood the coffee grounds with boiling water. "I get yah, man." Dean said, as if they were long time buddies. "Coffee is best when the natural flavors are there. I can't stand all that milk and sugar. Once you go black, you never go back."

Cas couldn't help the startled laugh that came from him at the usually sexual saying being used so casually to refer to coffee. Dean glanced over at him from the side and a shy smile crept across the man's features as Cas responded, oblivious to the look the other man threw him. "No wonder this place is so popular." He shook his head at himself. "Great food and drinks, and entertaining staff." He glanced up at Dean quickly as his cheeks flushed. "I bet you get a lot of regulars."

Dean hummed in response, bringing over the drink and handing the cup over with a gentle smile. "Sure do. I gotta show off my amazing memory some how."

"Well color me impressed. I still don't remember half my teacher's names." He couldn't believe he was still talking to the hot barista, or that the muffin in his hands was as delicious as it smelled. He was in heaven, he told himself again.

"What're you studying?" Dean asked, leaning on the counter with an interested tilt to his head. There were a few other customers off in the corners studying with headphones in their ears, and there was no one else in line right now. It was like it was just them, and Cas soaked it up.

"Ah, uhm, English Lit." He said shyly. He knew the look he was going to get, the way Dean would snicker at the fact that the nerdy little bookworm in the coffee shop was a cliché. That the old vest he was wearing over the gray button down shirt tucked into his pants made sense now, that the shoulder bag with all his books in it should have given him away as the stereotypical nerd that he was. He nearly choked when he realized Dean's response hit none of those points, and that, sure his eyes darted down Castiel's appearance, but he didn't give him that mocking look he was used to.

Instead Dean tilted his head in thought and pressed his tongue to the side of his cheek, pushing it out a little before humming out a little "My baby bro's big into English Lit. He was just ranting to me the other night about how he almost wanted to change majors just to have Prof. Lincoln again."

Cas stared at Dean with big blue eyes, surprise easy to read on his face.

Dean glanced shyly away, rubbing the back of his neck and continuing. "He's always getting me to read these big poetry books and novels." He laughed to himself. "I'm not very good at understanding it all, though. I bet you could wipe the floor with my understanding of Shakespeare or Chaucer."

Cas just stared, mesmerized. "Wow." He said out loud, without realizing it. "I...I uhm." He cleared his throat. "I could talk with you about some, if you ever wanted clarification or anything. I mean, I'm not...I wouldn't wipe...I uh, I'd love to have someone to talk to about it, that is, you know to get back into the essay and interpretation mindset of things for classes." He felt so stupid! He barely knew Dean and he was practically insulting the man by saying he was smarter than him. He was so awkward, he didn't know how he even lived with himself.

Dean surprised him again, though, with a delighted exclamation. "I'd love that!" He said warmly. "Maybe I can actually hold a conversation with Sammy about what I've been reading for once."

Cas felt himself sink back to reality, flushing as he looked up, relief washing through him. "Oh. I…" He didn't expect Dean to agree. "I guess I could stop by some time then, when you're not busy…"

Cas walked away with a stupidly goofy grin on his face, Dean's cell number written on the back of his hand, and a book discussion date scheduled for the next week when they were both free. Castiel felt like he was walking on clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the first update with missing words at the beginning. It seems it didn't copy paste very well. Should be fixed now.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke up with a broken gasp, twisting around in the tangle of blanket between his legs that hadn't been on him when he fell asleep. His eyes shot open and he looked around frantically, breathing heavily as his fingers dug into the fabric of the couch. He jerked up right, to a sitting position, feeling sweat roll down his neck and back and making him feel uncomfortably sticky.

"Bad dream?" Michael's voice drew him back to the present, and he looked around with flickering eyes, taking in the couch he had fallen asleep on, the blanket that was clearly Michael's and the semi darkness around him indicating the sun just started to set a while ago.

Dean swallowed hard, evening out his breathing before looking over the back of the couch and seeing his coworker and roommate at the kitchen bar, laptop open like usual and some photo pulled up on Photoshop for him to edit. Michael was a Photography major and had developed an obsession with Dean's facial structure that creeped him out sometimes.

He was often dragged into being Michael's project model and tried not to cringe at the very real fact that Michael's bedroom desk and the surrounding wall were covered in prints of his face and body. The man promised him vehemently that he wasn't obsessed with him for sexual purposes, he was just obsessed with how photogenic he was. At least Michael paid part of his rent to compensate. He was just relieved not to see his own face staring back at him right now, as he rubbed at his stubble rough face.

"Yeah." He whispered back hoarsely, trying to rub away the image of black wings from his dreams. He tried to forget the haunting feeling that something was staring at him in the darkness, shaking it's head at him, as he jerkily got up to get himself some water. "Thanks for the blanket."

"No problem. Looked like you could use it." Michael mentioned, throwing Dean a curious glance. They'd been rooming together for a year now, and they'd been getting closer now that they worked together too. Michael's parents were stinking rich, so he didn't really need the job, but his parents told him they wouldn't help with rent if he didn't at least bring in his own spending money. He spent most of it on paying Dean's part of the rent and the ridiculous gas prices in the area. They'd met when Dean was helping Sam move into the dorms, and had miraculously gotten on the subject of Dean needed a place to live and Michael needing a new roommate. It'd been fairly smooth sailing since.

There was a tense stretch of silence as Dean got his glass of water and downed it liked a dying man, refilling it twice before glancing back at the greyish green eyes trained on him. It was obvious the man was concerned from the set of his face and the pointed look that said he wanted to talk about it. This was his third nightmare in the past two weeks, and Michael noticed things. Especially the way Dean's face changed when he was closing off, or the way his eyes had more bags under them than normal.

"So."

Dean groaned, planting his hands on the counter in front of Michael and the raised bar top, slumping over and hanging his head towards the floor as he braced himself to talk about it. A shiver raised goose bumps over his skin as the sweat on his body cooled and left him chilled.

"It's nothing."

"Right, that's why you look like you've just slaughtered a puppy." Michael responded dryly, rolling his eyes. "Just let it out, man. I'm starting to worry. You haven't had this bad of a stint sleeping since last year. What's up?"

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Dean straightened up, wiping his palms down his thighs. He cleared his throat and walked past Michael back into their small living area. He felt the other man's eyes follow him, barely refraining from commenting before he saw Dean purposefully picking up his sketchbook from the coffee table. Dean had filled many such sketchbooks since Michael had started living with him, but he rarely got a chance to see inside of them. He knew Dean had a growing passion for tattoo design, and assumed he spent his free time when he wasn't worrying about Sam or money filling it with design ideas.

Dean nodded for Michael to come join him as he flopped back onto the couch heavily, bags smudging under his vivid eyes. Michael hated seeing him look so old. The man was only 24, yet his eyes were full of torment and restless memories that belonged to an old man. Michael sometimes filled the gaps in Dean's history with wild scenes of Dean shooting down enemies in Iraq and saving the world. He shuffled over and plopped down beside his roommate and friend, giving him a raised brow look as the man's deft fingers slid open the book and flipped through pages at an annoyingly fast speed (Michael terribly wanted to see what those pages held) before stopping on a drawing in black and red ink of blood stained wings sizzling into ash on a slender man's back.

(Inspiration image - fanart by: ?)

 

Well that was unexpected. Dean understood the silent demand for an explanation as the younger man dragged the sketch book into his lap to look at the detailed gore.

"I met this guy at the coffee shop a while back; that English Lit major I was telling you about with the weird name." He started, getting Michael's attention again.

"Yeah, the cute one with the baby blues?" When he'd realized Dean was making new friends with the dark haired, fair skinned doll at the counter he'd bugged Dean about getting the coffee shop patron to agree to a photo shoot. He was still waiting to get a chance to capture those eyes which he thought would beautifully compliment the green of his room mate's own gaze. Dean had yet to invite the man over, though, so Michael was still eagerly awaiting the chance to explore the younger subject. Then again, though, Dean never had any one but Sam over.

"Yeah, Cas." Dean nodded. "Well, I've been meeting with him a couple times a week lately, just talking about those books Sammy brings by insisting I read." He elaborated, knowing Michael had been wondering about his meetings lately, and questioned his sudden renewed desire to read the ever growing stack of books Sam left for them. "I keep having this dream where these…these bloody wings rip out of his back. I mean, I think it's him anyways, I never see the guys face in the dream, but I can just tell, you know?"

Michael nodded with a curve of his lips into a contemplative scowl. "That's pretty gruesome."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "Tell me about it."

"So…, do you...like this kid?" Michael probed after a moment, always curious about Dean's sexuality. He was a looker, that's for sure, with his broad shoulders and his cute bow legs and those fucking freckles dusting his cheeks and nose. He'd seen numerous women at work eying the man to no result, and a lot of guys. Dean was a polite soul, with a winning personality, but it took a lot for him to open up. Michael was still trying to figure out the man and he'd been friends with him for a year. In the time that Dean had been here, he'd never once witnessed Dean bringing over guests, or going on dates. He only ever hung out with Sammy, or had Sammy over. It wasn't hard to see Dean's adoration of the kid, and his protective urges. Dean was like a mother hen when it came to his brother Sammy. It was cute. Maybe they'd been raised in a foster home, his mind supplied. Yeah, that might be why they both stayed attached at the hip when they were together. Michael had never met any one from the system, but he'd always heard stories about the rough lives they lived. Not every host family was full of saints.

Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking the book back before Michael could thumb his way through more of the images. He really didn't want his soul to be so exposed to anyone. "I don't know. I've only known him a few weeks now…"

"Come on man, throw a guy a bone." Michael groaned, wanting a straight answer, well...relatively speaking.

Dean laughed softly, easier than before as his mind cleared of the dream. "Dude, are you still trying to label me?"

"Yes! Well, no, but yeah. I just want to know, you know? I know you probably think I'm madly in love with you, but that's just my camera doing the flirting, babe." He teased with a playful wink, glad to feel the tension leave the air between them.

Dean rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, shaking his head. "I don't know, Mikey. I'm probably bi." He shrugged, trying not to over think the fact he'd just confirmed Micheal's suspicions on his sexuality.

"Probably?"

"A guy can't catch a break, can he." Dean laughed, standing up with a stretch, exhaustion heavy on his bones but mind too damn aware to go back to bed. "I've only really been with girls before, okay? But I'm curious about...well...some guys." His cheeks heated a bit as he looked away.

"Like this Cas kid."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck in his tell tale sign of embarrassment. "Yeah, like Cas."

"Well you know me. I don't care who you screw, as long as I can still violate that pretty face and form of yours with my camera."

"You're so crude." A soft chuckle rolled from Dean's lips as he went to grab his backpack from by the door. He wasn't a student, but he used the bag to carry around his sketchbook and drawing supplies. "I should start charging you double." He threw back over his shoulders as he dug around for his colored pen pack.

A hearty laugh and a dirty retort of "Only if I get a peek under the clothes next time" finished their conversation as Dean threw his roomie the middle finger and padded to his bedroom down the hall.

"Try to get some sleep! You machine." Michael called after him, reluctantly returning to his assignment due at the end of the week. He was worried about Dean, but that wasn't anything new. He really liked the guy, in a nonsexual sort of way, and wanted to be supportive anyway he could. There was only so much he could do when dealing with Dean Winchester, though. The man didn't make it easy to get through his defenses. He wondered if this Castiel kid would do him any good.

Sitting on his bed, Dean couldn't stop thinking about angel wings.


	3. Chapter 3

"DEAN!" A booming voice filled the silent coffee shop as the door burst open, a massive tree of a man stepping in out of the wet misty mess that was outside. "Dean! Guess what?!" 

Cas stared with wide eyes at the man walking straight for him and Dean where they sat at a table right next to the counter. Dean had rearranged some of the seating so there was a spot for him to pop out and talk with Cas whenever he came in that would make getting up to help customers easier. He darted his eyes to Dean, checking to see if he knew the intimidating loud mouth that seemed solely focused on the green eyed barista. He caught the end of an eye roll, and Dean threw him a quick smirk as he stood up. In an instant there was a crushing of bones as the tall stranger wrapped miles of arms around Dean's leaner form, picking him up off the ground for half a beat before setting him down and slapping his back in greeting enthusiastically. Dean was grinning bigger than Cas had ever seen, and he returned the pat on the back just as forcefully. Cas was still lost on how tall the man was! 

"What are you doing here, bitch? I thought you had class." 

"I got done with a test early. College is so much better than highschool. Goddamn freedom, man." The big man practically groping Dean with his hands on his bicep and his chest barely an inch from Dean's was giving the barista all of his attention, and a dashing dimpled smile. 

"Want me to grab you a drink?"

"Nah, nah. Maybe in a bit, don't want you to work on my account." He laughed, shaking his head at Dean and finally stepping back a little, eyes flashing to Cas for half a second before gravitating back to Dean's. Cas was floored by hazel eyes that sparkled in the light like Dean's. How had he not figured it out from the hug? This had to be the infamous Sammy he heard about every day. "I wanted to call you right away, but I knew you were working." He continued without a care for Cas blatantly staring at the two brothers. 

Dean pulled out his chair and nodded for Sam to take it as he grabbed an empty one from the table next to theirs and pulled it around to sit on. "Cas, Sammy, Sammy, Castiel." Dean waved a hand between the two, eyes warmer than Cas could remember seeing them before. They'd been talking for weeks now, and it was so easy to be around Dean, but Cas had to admit he barely knew anything about the man. He did know one thing, though, Sam was the reason Dean was here. Sam was Dean's number one priority.

Sam stuck out his hand, smiling big as he shot Dean a curious look. "Great to meet you, man. Dean hasn't been boring you to death, has he?" He laughed, getting a smack to the shoulder from his older brother.

Cas couldn't help the small smile. "Not at all. He's wonderful company." 

Sam raised a brow and laughed softly. "He sure is." He grinned, throwing his flushing brother another look. "You the English Lit major?" 

Cas nodded, flushing himself when he realized Dean had talked about him. "Mhm. Dean's been helping me get ready for all those god awful essays and papers I have to write all the time." He replied honestly. 

"Huh, didn't even know he could read." Sam teased, getting a kick from Dean who glared at him.

"Oh shut up, you girl. They're all your fucking books I'm reading, so don't you give us any lip about it." Dean rolled his eyes, smile still curving his lips up at the corners. Cas had to remind himself not to stare, but it was so hard not to when he could practically feel the energy rolling off of Dean from being in Sam's presence. "What'd you come in here screeching about, anyways?"

Sam gave an eye roll of his own before breaking into a blinding grin. "She said yes!" 

Cas tilted his head in confusion, wanting to know what was going on. Dean caught his eye and smiled softly before looking back to Sam. "Jess?"

"The one and only." 

"So when do I get to meet this mystery babe? I have to make sure she's not planning to wine dine and ditch you after a quickie. Baby bro only gets the best." 

Sam flushed, looking mortified. "God, Dean, you're worse than most parents." There was a beat of tension before Sam spoke again. "She's not that type of girl. She's...she's…" He got a dreamy look in his eyes and if possible smiled even bigger. "God, Dean's she's incredible, and she actually said she'd go on a date with me! Me!"

Dean rolled his eyes, standing up before the door even opened on another patron. "She better have said yes. My Sammy boy's the best you can get." Cas wanted to disagree. He could name another green eyed man for that title. "Did you use the puppy dog eyes? No one can resist those." He laughed as he went to the greet the new customer. 

As the girl ordered and Dean prepared the diabetes inducing sugared drink, Sam just laughed and shook his head. "I'm a gentleman, Dean. I don't need to sink to dirty tactics." 

"Sure, sure. That's why you always use them on me to get your way." He retorted. Cas was absolutely fascinated by the exchange.

"That's cause you're stubborn, you jerk." Sam huffed with a look that told Cas that this was common practice for them. Cas smiled, imagining them bickering in a car on a long road trips. Imagined Dean blathering on and on about music that he loved and arguing for hours with Sam over why the driver got to pick the music. Heck, even Cas had been subjected to that one afternoon when he'd commented on the record playing Led Zepplin instead of the more common jazzy music that was one whenever another worker was in there with him.

"Bitch." Dean said in automatic response, before turning to and handing the finished drink to the amused girl across the counter. He smiled at her and bid her a great afternoon as she headed back for the door. "Not my fault I'm smarter than you." He stated as he sat down again.

"Right, sure you are." 

"Hey, just cause I have a GED and give uhm hell attitude doesn't mean I'm stupid, you sasquatch." Dean flapped a hand towel against the back of Sam's head. 

Sam batted the towel away and laughed at his brother. "I never disagreed with you." Sam pointed out with a teasing smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes, turning his attention suddenly and fully on Castiel who was in a daze as he drank in the two handsome men sitting across from him. He nearly flushed, suddenly nervous as Dean caught his eye. "So, Cas said he's had a few classes with Prof. Lincoln..." And just like that all of Sam's attention was focused on Cas, and they got lost in discussion and debate for hours. He barely realized how much time had passed since the moose of a man stormed in and the time Dean got off work finally. Watching Dean's easy smile and gracious movements as he floated about customers getting their orders and fixing some food orders felt like a dream as he got drawn deeper into the world that existed around the two Winchester brothers. Cas thought, later, that even knowing how it all ended he'd still do everything the same way all over again.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dude, did you make pie?" Sam asked as he stormed into the coffee shop like a moose hurtling through trees. Now that Cas had heard Sam described as a moose the imagery was always there. He was so tall, pure muscle, with wide shoulders, side burns and floppy hair that Dean loved teasing him about.

"Of course I made pie! I wanted pie, so I made some damn pie." Dean retorted without even looking up at Sam as he settled the pie into the display case, another one sitting on the counter by his elbow.

"Dude, you do realize you're supposed to be making food for the _customers_ , right?" Sam flopped into the seat across from Cas without hesitation, smiling warmly at the blue eyed student that had infiltrated their lives. Sam had been a little thrown off, pleasantly so, to know Dean was making friends. He, of course, knew Michael and Dean were friends, but that had been a relationship that built over time and was due to continuous exposure and mutual help. Every time Sam came by and saw Cas sitting there with a book and coffee in his hands, and his eyes flittering to Dean every so often, his heart swelled. He hoped Dean realized the blue eyed man was absolutely smitten by him. And rightly so!

"Bitch." Dean rolled his eyes, setting the second pie in the case. Sam couldn't help watching Dean's careful, easy movements, the way his green eyes were focused on the task at hand but ready to snap to attention whenever someone came inside. It made his heart ache to know Dean hadn't always been this free, this open.

"Jerk." He murmured back without heat, not realizing how far away he sounded. Dean's eyes darted to him instantly, and Sam swallowed hard at the worry that flashed across his face. Dean always wore his heart on his sleeves, especially when it came to his baby bro, but this look was reserved just for him. That look that spoke of years of watching out for his kid brother, for being on the defense and being forced into a constant worry for the safety of the one person he loved and that loved him back.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, eyes flashing up and down Sam's body looking for any signs, any  clues. Sam suddenly felt like a complete ass for worrying Dean, for bringing up bad memories that still lingered for both of them.

"Nothing. I promise. Just...thinking."

Cas stared at the two brothers, eyes darting between them, trying to decipher the conversation on their faces that proceeded Dean's worry. It was intoxicating to see the way Dean's eyes flashed, changed, darkened and narrowed with his thoughts, with this silent exchange. In a minute it was over, and Dean was back to working on his display case, though his green eyes kept darting to Sam every few seconds.

"So, how was class?" Dean threw out there, obviously trying to change the subject from their awkward interaction in front of Cas.

"You know, the usual. Boring as bricks." Sam said lightly, tension suddenly gone from the air. "I'm starting to wonder why I decided on pre-law."

"I warned you! There are better ways to help people than torturing yourself with that crap." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sam…" Cas interjected softly, catching the hazel eyed male's attention before continuing. "Why _did_ you pick prelaw?"

Sam paled a second before flushing, glancing to Dean for some sort of support before clearing his throat. "Oh, uh…" He threw anxious eyes to Dean again, and Cas started to worry that he'd been out of line asking such a thing. "Dean and I had a rough childhood, is all. I wanted to try to make the world a safer place for people, you know? Get the bad guys off the street."

Castiel's eyes darted to Dean, seeing the far away look in his eyes as he went through the motions of making a drink. Cas bit his lip, frowning and looking back to Sam. "A-ah. Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I think that's...a really damned good reason. I didn't peg you for the do it for the money kind of guy."

Sam let out a short laugh at that, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm used to not having money."

Cas' eyes immediately darted to Dean again, seeing the haunted look flash in his greens before fading, making him look older than he was. His heart tightened and he barely stopped himself from sucking in a sharp breath. He knew it wasn't his place to ask what that meant, so he nodded softly, looking back down at the coffee in his hands, nearly finished, and swallowed past a lump in his throat. "Well...I'm sure you'll be a great lawyer, Sam." He offered sincerely, glancing back up to see the soft, sad look in Sam's eyes.

"Thanks, bud." He said, patting the top of Cas' hand before looking to Dean as he approached.

"On the house." Dean shoved a drink at Sam before turning back away, voice a deep whiskey rough tone that did all sorts of things to Cas that made him want an ice cold shower.

Sam followed Dean's back with worried eyes, smiling to himself as he took in the drink in his hands. It was one of those girly drinks Dean always dissed, with caramel drizzling the top of a mountain of whipped cream, and even some small chocolate chips dusting the milky delight.

"Bitch." A soft murmur under his breath.

"Jerk." An equally soft response from over the counter.

Cas couldn't help but stare at the two brothers, so lost to the secrets behind them, the secrets they buried with every breath. It made his mouth go dry, his hands sweaty, and his pulse quicken. Every fiber of his being was telling him that these two boys had something dangerous lurking in their past, and he could only pray it wouldn't come after them. He didn't want to see them hurt, they were quickly coming to mean as much as family to him.

An hour later, and Cas was still reeling, but he'd come to a decision that had been bugging him for a while. "Hey, Dean, Sam."

Two dual grunts greeted him, as Dean handed over a drink to a barely functioning man at the counter who had been there longer than Cas had. He'd been studying in a corner the whole time, and Cas didn't envy him the crash he was going to have once the triple red eye drink Dean gave him ran it's course.

"Halloween is coming up…" Tension permeated the air like a bitter after taste and the guy at the counter scurried away with a startled look as Dean shuffled over to the edge of the counter where Cas and his brother sat.

"Yeah?" A gruff tone from those pretty lips made Cas tense up, and swallow hard. How had he fucked this up again, without even saying anything?

"I uh...I was wondering if you two had any plans." He whispered, not daring to look up.

"Oh." Sam murmured, exchanging a quick look with Dean. "We uh...we're really not that big into halloween…"

Dean nodded stiffly at his brother's comment. "I uh...have that...trip…"

Sam's eyes widened in remembrance. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot that was this coming weekend…"

Cas dared to look up, hoping his face didn't paint a depressing and sad excuse of a mask. "Oh?"

"Dean has this uh...tradition…" Sam glanced at Dean, as if weighing his words carefully. "He goes on a bit of a road trip this time of the year...you know to...clear his head." Hazel darted between green and blue, and Cas couldn't help repeating the quick glances of his own.

"Oh...I didn't know." He murmurs, biting at his bottom lip, and playing with the edge of his empty cup.

"Yeah. I usually go with him...but with school and all…" Sam's eyes lingered on Dean's silent, carefully blank expression for a moment before he licked his lips, ran a hand through his hair and sat up straighter. "But if you're free you know-" A quick dart of eyes, with more questioning features that Dean rolled his eyes at and nodded to. "Next weekend, we could hang  out...not at the coffee shop for once."

Cas' face lit up in a big smile and he nodded eagerly. "Really? You guys would want to?" He asked, blue eyes blinking excitedly between them with hope shining brightly at them. There was no way Sam and Dean could say no if they'd wanted, with that much eagerness being directed at them.

"Yeah, man." Dean cleared his throat. "We can have a guys night at my apartment. I know Michael's been wanting a night in."

Sam widened his eyes, staring at Dean like he grew two heads. Dean was inviting them to his place? Sam had underestimated how much Dean might like Cas back. Now if only they figured it out for themselves. Sam just relaxed back into his seat, glad to see the tension fade away again as he watched Dean's expressions as he fell into easy conversation with Cas. He smiled to himself as he watched the unconscious flirting the two did, the way Dean's expressions softened when those baby blues were on him, the way Dean had a smile lingering on his lips the whole time. Sam couldn't be more grateful for the changes he saw in his brother in the past few years. It made his heart swell to know Dean was finally healing. Sam wanted him to find happiness and he glad that they'd both found friendship in Castiel. 


	5. Chapter 5

The road hummed beneath the tires and Dean felt life rush through his veins with the steady purr of his baby's engine. He'd practically grown up in this car, and it was probably the only thing he'd ever gotten from his father that was worth a damn. His shoulders swayed slightly to the rocking of the car and he felt himself get lulled into a peaceful state of mind. That was the whole point of this week long break from life. The only thing missing was his brother's presence at his side, and the soft smile of a blue eyed angel. His dreams the past few nights had been rough, dark memories popping their ugly heads out when Dean was most defenseless. He barely slept, for fear of falling asleep and waking up screaming. He really didn't want to have to explain to Michael what was going on. There was a lot about his past that he kept buried, and right now...this week right around Halloween, was when it was the worst. Even after several years, the memories were fresh, even if the wounds were healed. He ached, like there was an empty pit in his chest that couldn't be filled. 

A small frown settled on his face as he stared blankly at the road ahead of him, the silence of the night was a welcome blessing just moments ago, but now he ached for someone to talk to. Without a thought to the time, not even bothering to check, he shoved his hand into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone, pressing speed dial one and bringing the speaker to his ear. The moment the call connect sweet relief washed through him and he let out an audible breath of relief. 

"Hey Sammy."

"I had a feeling you'd be calling." His brothers voice was rough on the other end, but not from sleep. It was a tired grate and Dean knew Sammy was going to have a rough nights sleep alone, too. This was the one weekend of the year that really hit them both hard, and it didn't make it any easier not being side by side. Dean felt like a complete jerk for leaving Sam behind, but he knew he couldn't sit still back at the apartment or he'd punch something. 

"Shotgun's feeling a little cold tonight." 

A small chuckle warmed Dean's heart as he focused on the sound of his brother. It was almost like he was sitting there next to him. Almost. "I know, Dean. I know. Wish I could take a week off, too. So how's it been? You going the same route as last year?" Dean wished he could turn around, drive back to the university, and steal his brother away for the weak. If only he didn't have tests, attendance policies, and a girlfriend. 

Dean rubbed his eyes with his free hand before returning it to the steering wheel. "No. I headed west, actually. Might see if I can find an empty beach, find a patch of clear skies." 

A sigh of longing greeted the journey's plans, and Dean yearned for his brother's company even more. "Bring me and Cas back a souvenir, or I'll kick your ass." 

Dean laughed, spotting an exit sign with a motel listing. He needed to stop for the night before he crashed his baby, even if he knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep. "Yeah, I'll look for something." The thought of walking with his toes in the cool sand, and a salty breeze crashing over his face already made him relax a little. He'd be sure to find the best seashells out there, even if he had to walk for miles to find ones suitable for his friend and brother. 

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" He thanked his lucky stars the motel was barely a block from the turn off, and pulled in easily in front of the office. "Bout to book a room, gimme a minute?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I'll just sit here in the dark listening to you breath." Sam commented in a low voice.

"I always knew you were a stalker, Sam. I'll be sure to let Jess know." He laughed, stepping into the motel office and bringing the phone down to rest against the side of his neck as he paid for a room. Even now he paid in cash and under a false alias, old habits dying hard. "Aighto, back." 

"All that rumbling got me hot and bothered." Sam joked from the other end as Dean drove the car around closer to his room. "So, see anything cool on your drive? You left damn early." He knew, he'd been there to see him off with a bag full of supplies and monster of a hug. 

"You're making me blush with all your teasing." Dean rolled his eyes, keying his way into the room and dropping onto the bed without finesse. "Nothing exciting today. Didn't really stop much today. Just needed to drive, you know?" 

"Yeah, Dean, I know." Sam's voice softened again, and Dean ached to pat him on the back and tell him everything was okay. He wished he could find sanctuary closer to Sam for the week, but he knew the only thing that helped him when it got this bad was the hum of the impala's engine beneath his feet, and the rolling road leading him anywhere before his eyes. His chest ached to be closer to Sam, though. It wasn't just a bad time for him. 

They fell silent for a little while, just listening to each other on the other end, knowing they were alive and well. Sometimes that's all they needed. "Hey Sam, no chick flick moment or anything...but..." He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. "Do you think I'm doing right by you?"

There was silence on the other end for a long moment before Sam answered. "You're kidding, right? Doing right by me? Are you shitting me?" For a moment self loathing rolled heavily through Dean's veins and he pressed his eyes closed tight against the dark emptiness of the room. He felt gutted and raw. "Dean, you've always done right by me. You sacrifice yourself at every turn to keep me safe and help me reach my dream. You do right by me, you do right by Cas, and you do right by Bobby. Don't you dare think otherwise. You're always working to keep me on track, to help me with classes, to pay Bobby back for the years of hell we brought him. I owe you so much, Dean, and I want you to be happy. Truly happy. Okay? Just, for once, please, put yourself first?" 

Dean swallowed hard, staring blankly at the dark wall around him. He wiped his palms down his still jean clad thighs and had to fight off tears for a moment. God, he wasn't some damn girl! "Yeah, Sammy. I'll try." He whispered, biting his lip at how small he sounded.

"Good, cause Dean?" He waited for his brother's grunt before continuing on. "You know...Cas likes you back, right?" 

Dean could feel the color burn his cheeks and he nearly choked on his own spit, turning onto his side and coughing roughly. "The fuck, Sam." 

"I'm serious." Sam retorted in a no-nonsense tone. "And don't give me any of that shit about you being straight, or you not liking him too. Cut the crap, okay? I'm not blind. And you sure as hell wouldn't invite the kid over to your apartment if you didn't at least trust him." 

Dean gaped, mouth flapping open like a stunted fish. He nearly punched himself in the eyes as he jabbed his knuckles into his eye socket and rubbed roughly at the sudden headache that formed from his internal repression. "Fuck." He hissed, overwhelmed. "Way to be subtle, bitch."

"Don't try to deflect the subject." 

"Fine! Okay, fine! Yeah, so maybe I like him a little. It's nothing, though, okay? It's not- I'm not-Just...god. Don't say anything to him, okay? Fuck." 

"Elegant, Dean. And I'm not a monster, I'm know how to be subtle." Dean could hear the eye roll in his voice. "Just, don't close off at the first sign of affection, okay? I like that kid, and I want him to stick around." 

"Gosh, just ask him out if you have such a big crush on him, jesus." Dean tried to deflect again, getting a soft laugh from Sam. "I'm not gay, okay? Just so we're clear."

"Sure, Dean. Whatever you say." Sam laughed, the sound filling Dean with warmth. It always felt like coming home when he talked to Sam, always felt like safety and peace. Maybe Dean hated chick flick moments so much was because he was just a big softie inside. 

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked after a lull in the conversation, eyes falling close to the darkness around him. 

"Yeah big bro?"

"Thank you." He whispered into the speaker, clenching a hand into the covers of the bed. He didn't know what he'd do without the little snot nosed kid on the other end. 

"Get some sleep, Dean." Sam responded, a softness to his voice Dean could almost imagine in hazel eyes. "I'll talk with you tomorrow." 

"Yeah, okay, Sammy." He murmured, feeling sleep clawing at his consciousness as he was lulled by the gentle hum of his brother's voice. "Get some sleep yourself. Love ya, bitch."

"Love you too, jerk." He said with a gentle laugh as Dean's body sank into the throws of sleep at last. "Night." With the soft sound of Sam's voice lulling him to sleep, Dean managed to get in a few solid hours of dreamless sleep. He couldn't say the same for the next few nights, though.


	6. Chapter 6

"How was your road trip?" Cas asked softly as he came up to the counter, a shy glance up and then back to the card in his hand. "I..I don't mean to pry or anything…" 

Dean bit his bottom lip to fight off a flush as he looked at Cas and saw the obvious concern and care the other male was directing at him. He'd not forgotten what a sensitive subject the trip had been before hand, and was being considerate of it even now, on Dean's first day back.

"It was kind of lonely, actually." Dean admitted, gently taking the card from Cas' hand and gliding it through the machine as he felt his pulse quicken. Now that he'd kind of confirmed his attraction to Sam and Michael it was like he couldn't stop wanting Cas to realize he was interested. He felt light headed just thinking about spending a night with him and the others drinking and acting like real college students.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I know Sam said he wanted to go with you…" Cas stumbled to take the card back from Dean, flushing as his own nerves. He didn't know why today felt different then every other time he was in here. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen Dean for nearly a week.

"Yeah, shotgun felt a little cold." Dean commented, moving to the coffee machine to put in Cas' order to try the new pumpkin special. "I ended up finding a beach out west, spent most of my time there just looking at the stars since it was so clear." 

Cas bit his bottom lip, resisting the dreamy sigh that wanted to escape. Star gazing was one of his favorite things to do when he had free time. "Oh…" He let out wistfully, smiling at the image of Dean sitting on the hood of his impala staring up at the stars. "Do you know any constellations?" 

Dean looked over at Cas and nodded with a smile. "A lot of them, yeah. Not actually sure I know them accurately though. I tried to learn as many as I could when I was little so I could teach Sam about them. Nothing quite as relaxing as sitting on an engine warmed hood with a cold beer and a friend at your side." He said softly, with a quick glance at Cas.

The flush that warmed the blue eyed man's cheeks made Dean stumble a little, swallowing hard as he put himself in Sam's shoes, imagining watching their interactions. He barely let himself believe the image it painted, and quickly finished up the drink he was making. He brought it out and around the counter and set it on the table where Cas usually sat, smiling and nodding for Cas to come sit down. He waited til the younger male stumbled into the seat and then slid the cup over slowly, fingers still wrapped around the base of it as Cas reached for it automatically.

"Hey, Cas?"

Dean's vision was filled with big blue eyes, nervous but eager for Dean's attention. "Yeah, Dean?"

Before he could give it any thought, he was reaching across the table, hooking his free hand around the back of Cas' neck, leaning over and kissing Cas full on the lips as he drew him in closer. It was a second before Dean realized what he was doing, or the fact that Cas was clutching at the wrist of the hand around his coffee cup, definitely kissing him back. And eagerly! 

"You know you're still a work, right?" Sam's voice interrupted the moment, and Dean jerked back with a scarlet flush as he turned to stare at his towering baby brother at the counter. Sam just returned the startled look with a knowing grin and a wink that had Dean stumbling to compose himself, bringing his hand down from Cas' neck and glancing at the blue eyed man he'd just kissed. Oh god, he just kissed Cas.

Cas was flushed an arousing shade of pink, his lips swollen and red, and his eyes glazed with pleasure as he stared back at Dean. "That...was unexpected." He whispered, hand still on Dean's wrist where he held Cas' coffee. 

"Ah, yeah...sorry...I just...uhm…" He rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, well aware Sam was watching them from the counter. "I uh…" He didn't know what to say, and he looked up again to meet understanding blue eyes. 

"It's okay. We can talk about it later." Cas offered with a soft smile. "Maybe after you get off work?" 

Dean nodded dumbly, letting go of the coffee cup at last and squeezing Cas' hand as he pulled back and stood up. He nearly knocked over the chair as he headed back around the counter and his cheeks were continuously stained pink for the next few minutes. Sam couldn't help but giving him a pointed look, teasing his older brother. 

"It's about time." Sam said, as Dean got around the counter. "I'm surprised you two haven't been dry humping behind the bar for the past few months." 

Cas spluttered and spat out his mouth full of coffee, coughing in disbelief. He shot Sam a wide eyed look that just made Sam laugh harder.

"You two are helpless."

A few hours later and Dean was finally free of work, his heart thundering against his chest as he realized he was finally going to get a chance to talk to Cas about what had happened earlier. He ached to feel those dry lips against his again, to get a chance to taste and explore that sweet mouth. He wanted to see those bright eyes darkened and look into him. He wanted Cas to smile that soft smile and settle into his arms...he really was hopeless. 

Cas had to run to class at some point, but had agreed to meet Dean outside the coffee shop when he got off. As promised, as Dean was stepping out of the front doors he could spot Cas headed towards him down the side walk. He shoved his hands into his pockets and bit at his bottom lip nervously as he waited for Cas to reach him, throwing a smile his way when he was closer.

"Hey." He whispered as Cas came up to his side.

"Hey." Cas smiled as he greeted Dean back, hands clutching at his messenger bag's strap. "How was work?"

"Pretty good." He said with a flush, glancing down to Cas' hands before reaching forward, linking a hand behind Cas' neck again and pulling him into a gentle exploratory kiss. When they broke apart for air, Dean provided further commentary. "See, there's this really cute kid that always comes in and gives me these big smiles and bright eyed looks…" He grinned as Cas flushed and shut him up with a quick peck to the lips. 

"No teasing, Mr. Freckles." Cas retorted, grabbing for one of Dean's hands and linking his fingers with him. "We should probably not make out in front of your job." He pointed out, with a glance at the door not to far from them. 

Dean laughed and nodded. "Yeah, probably." He agreed. "Do you...maybe, uh, want to go grab dinner with me?" 

Cas hummed eagerly, nodding as he fell into place at Dean's side. "I'd love to." He breathed in disbelief. He'd been worried all day that Dean hadn't meant the kiss, that it had been a mistake. But this was beyond his dreams. He'd never thought he'd get a chance to kiss Dean Winchester! And god, what a kisser he was! He flushed in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts that filtered through his mind and let Dean lead him over to his car. The black impala sat where Dean always parked it, and the sudden realization that not only had he just been kissed by Dean, but he was going to be riding shotgun with him soon made Cas' vision spin. He knew how important this car was to Dean. 

Reluctantly, they let go of each other's hands to move to the other sides of the car and get in, but like magnets their fingers slotted together again once they were seated. Dean set the key in the ignition but didn't start the car, staring out the windshield in a daze for a moment before turning to look at Cas. He let admiring green eyes rack down Cas' lean form, taking in the casual blue jeans, the dark grey button down, the black pea coat and the red scarf around his neck. He bit at his bottom lip and let out a rumble of approval. 

"Dean?" 

"Yeah, Cas?" He asked with a soft rumble, aware of Cas' blue eyes shyly glancing back at him. 

"How long have you...uhm…"

"Pretty much the whole time." Dean admitted, squeezing Cas' hand and drawing it up to his lips. He turned in his seat and gave Cas a shy look. "You were just so easy to talk to, and so sincere and...and charming. It was hard not to notice you." He said with a little laugh. 

"Me too." Cas responded, inching closer a little and resting his free hand on Dean's stubble rough cheek. "I stayed away for a week after I first saw you because I was ashamed by how much I wanted you. I never realized I could like green eyes and freckles so much…"

Dean licked his bottom lip, staring into Cas' ocean blue eyes. "God, you're beautiful." He whispered, leaning in and catching Cas' lips in another kiss. 

Like a snowball getting a slow start down the hill, the kiss quickly spiraled into something bigger. Cas climbed into Dean's lap and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck as their lips clashed. Cas moaned to feel Dean's arms wrap around his back and press wide palms against his lower back and between his shoulder blades. He opened his mouth and felt Dean's tongue slide inside eagerly, exploring with deft strokes. Cas pulled back with a gasp, though, when he felt something cool and metallic against his own. 

"W-when…" He panted against Dean's grinning mouth. "When did you get a tongue piercing?!' He squeaked. 

Dean laughed. "I've had it for a while." He chuckled, sticking his tongue out to reveal a clear headed bead and a flesh tone pole stuck through his tongue. He caught it on his teeth and winked at Cas before diving back in. Cas groaned into the kiss, roughly shoving his hands through Dean' short hair, ridding it off the hat he'd taken to wearing since the weather started getting cooler. He tossed it over the back seat and pressed in close to Dean's chest as he pushed the older male into the drivers side door. He panted into Dean's mouth as he felt that pierced tongue slide along his insides, tasting and exploring his mouth like he belonged there. When he pulled back with a quick nibble to the bottom of his lip, Cas was nearly whimpering. He panted against Dean's lips, staring down at them for a moment, admiring the lip piercing he had as well. 

"Never thought I'd be attracted to a man with so many holes in his body, either." He teased, flicking his tongue out and across Dean's bottom lip. 

Dean laughed softly, staring up at Cas under thick rimmed glasses. Cas narrowed his eyes, reaching around and plucking the glasses from the man's face. He stared through them and narrowed his eyes at Dean with a pointed look. "Are these fake?"

Dean's grin grew wider and he nodded. "Something wrong with that?" 

Cas growled, folding the glasses up and tossing them in the back, too. "Fuck yes. I've been fantasizing about seeing you without them for weeks now." He growled, lunging back in for a chance to explore of his own. He groaned as Dean sucked on his tongue and opened for him, his hands gliding down Dean's chest and exploring what he could through the layers of clothes. He could definitely get used to pinning Dean down and kissing him like this. 

"Mmm. You're a bit of a biter, aren’t you." Dean groaned as Cas nibbled as his bottom lip between searching strokes of his tongue. Cas responded by dragging Dean's swollen bottom lip between his teeth in a slow drag, holding it captive as he looked straight into his open faced gaze. Just as he'd imagined, he could make out so many shades of green, the tiny flecks of gold that were more prominent in Sam's eyes, and those thick dark lashes that could make any girl jealous. He pulled back with a slow wet pop as his fingers dug into Dean's sides. He licked his lips slowly, letting his gaze drift over the barista's features openly, without worry he'd be told off. He brought one hand up and brushed his fingers across Dean's cheek, smiling at the dusting of freckles, at the fine lines and pores that seemed absolutely flawless. 

"You're like a dream." He laughed gently, biting his bottom lip as he brushed his thumb across Dean's own swollen lips. God, what he imagined those lips doing to him. He was going to have some intense dreams in the next few days, he could already tell. "I never thought…" He groaned. "God, I just want to ravish you." He growled as he leaned down and pressed his lips against Dean's jaw, sliding it down with quick kisses to the base of his neck, nipping and biting. 

Dean let out a low hum of approval, fingers raking up and down Cas' back. "We completely abandoned the dinner plans, didn't we." 

"Mhm." Cas hummed back against Dean's throat, giving it special attention as his hands traced Dean's shoulders and chest appreciatively. 

"I didn't expect things to move so...fast." Dean gasped as Cas sucked on his ear lobe and scraped his teeth across the tender flesh. "I guess I'm used to wining and dining girls…" He murmured self consciously. 

Cas pulled back, looking shyly out the steamy windows. "Honestly...I've uh…" He cleared his throat, straightening his back a little before looking at Dean head on. "You're kind of my first." 

Dean's eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he stared at Cas with a questioning look. "Like...first kiss or first boyfriend?" 

Cas' cheeks darkened as he realized the implications of the two choices. "Well...I mean, I've kissed another boy before, but uh...I guess…first…" He wasn't sure if he was allowed to say it. 

"So you'd want to be?" Dean spared him from finishing with a nervous look of his own. "My boyfriend?" 

Cas nodded quickly, biting his bottom lip hard as he stared at Dean with startled blue eyes. "Yes." He croaked out in disbelief.

"Good." Dean grinned at Cas and drew him back in for a heated kiss, letting his hands roam a little more freely along Cas' back and sides. "It's settled then." He panted against Cas' bruised lips. 

"Hey, boyfriend?" 

"Yes, Cas?" Dean laughed softly at the other mans words, looking up into amused, tender eyes.

"I'm about thirty seconds away from giving you a hand job. Can we maybe...go somewhere more private? As much as I am enjoying you lovely car." He smiled softly as palmed a hand low on Dean's belly. 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and quickly put his hands on Cas' hips, pushing him bodily back into his seat with a deep flush. He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly back into a normal driver's position. "Where too?" He squeaked out as he turned the car on. 

"My place okay?" 

"Just lead the way." Dean husked out. 

It took them five minutes to drive to Cas' apartment, park, and make it into the apartment before Cas was dropping his book bag by the door, slamming the door shut, and pushing Dean up against it with no intention of wasting any more time finding somewhere else. 

"I really don't want to rush things with you." He panted against Dean's plump lips, ravaging them with a quick kiss. "But I really can't help myself." He admitted, undoing the button to Dean's jeans deftly and shoving his hand down the other man's pants. The little hitch of breath, and the teeth sinking into his bottom lip were the perfect reward as he palmed the heavy heat in his hand. He groaned into a heated kiss at those calloused hands digging into his hair and cupping his face as he palmed the length beneath the denim. It was like God had crafted Dean out of sugar and spice and everything nice another man or woman could ask for. He was thick and warm in his palm, and it sat comfortably in Cas' hand. He loved knowing he could have this kind of reaction from any one, but knowing he was getting it from Dean. Dean Winchester. It kind of blew his mind. 

"Fucking hell, Cas, you're a kinky son of a bitch." Dean panted as he rocked his hips a little forward, straining against the tight confines of his pants. "I don't know what I was expecting…" He gasped as Cas pressed his thumb into the head of his length, smearing the pad of it with Dean's precum. "Definitely didn't peg you for the dominating type." 

Cas laughed softly, leaning his head against Dean's and looking into his eyes for a moment of searching. "I didn't either, honestly." He confided. "But I don't see either of us complaining." He grunted as he pressed his hips in against Dean's and against the back of his hand where it cupped Dean. He rolled his hips into it, eyes fluttering shut at the slight friction. "Definitely not complaining." He laughed, lunging for Dean's mouth again. 

"God, Cas. Fuck." He groaned, the pressure building quickly. "Take your damn pants off, already." He hissed, grinding against him as he arched from the wall. 

"So demanding." Cas responded dryly as he took a sudden step back from Dean, leaving him with too much space between them, too much cool air against him. He swallowed hard at the look in Cas' eyes and leaned heavily against the door in response, posturing himself a little to look more inviting. 

"Come on, Cas." He taunted, wiggling his hips a little and upsetting Cas' hand in his pants. It was suddenly gone, leaving him with a bitten back whine of protest on his lips as Cas roughly grabbed at his shirt and pulled it off, quickly doing the same to Dean's and then dragging him by the belt loops over to a large overstuffed chair nearest the door and shoving Dean down onto it. He made quick work of ridding Dean of his pants after that, exposing him to the cool autumn air. 

Cas paused, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he took in Dean's naked body. He was practically spread out for him, slouched sloppily in the big chair with his hips dragged to the edge of the cushion. He was toned and muscled in all the right places, and Cas could just imagine how long it had taken him to build up that kind of physique. He pressed his palms to Dean's shoulders, pushing him down a little in silent warning not to move as he dragged his palms down the exposed chest, flicking at a nipple and tracing ribs. He thumbed over a small mark near his left arm pit, pushing his arms open a little more to see a white scar raising the skin there in the shape of a pitch fork. He raised a brow, glancing to Dean with a quick questioning look before moving on. Now wasn't the time to ask, and he knew Dean wouldn't want to share that with him right now. He knew how Dean was prone to avoiding subjects about his past. 

He continued on before Dean could get uncomfortable with his discovery, his fingers tracing a few more scars across his abs and belly. He wanted badly to ask how a man got scars like these, but kept pushing on, dragging his hands lower and lower until he was caressing sharp hip bones, running his thumbs along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and spreading Dean's legs open around his shoulders. 

Dean gasped, burying his face in the big pillow by his face, fingers curling into the edge of the cushion beneath him. "Fuck." He groaned, broken. It was obvious to Cas then that no one had ever treated Dean like this, like he ought to be cherished. No one treated Dean like the treasure he was. All Cas wanted to do was ravage and pleasure this man beneath him in any way he could. He wanted to make sure he felt every caress as a tender touch. He wanted Dean to feel wanted. 

"Wish I'd known you longer." Cas whispered as he leaned in and kissed Dean's naval, and then one of his hips. "Wish I'd had more time with you already, wish I could make you see how much you matter." He said softly, bringing his lips down to Dean's inner thigh, licking and kissing a section before sucking a hickey into it. 

Dean gasped and mewled and tried to muffle himself in the pillow, embarrassed Cas could get this kind of reaction from him. His thighs quaked, and his cock jumped against his belly at the attention so near to it. He groaned out in desperation, rocking his hips forward a little and peeking at Cas from where he'd pressed his face into the plush fabric. "Cas…" 

Like a prayer, Dean panted out his name, drawing Castiel's attention to the other matter at hand here. He smiled, sliding his palms down Dean's thighs and under his knees slowly before bring them back up and settling them on the trembling hips. He wet his lips and then dove in, kissing the crown of Dean's cock and testing the salty taste of pre-cum. It was different then his own taste (he was a gay guy, of course he knew what his own tasted like), and the musky smell of Dean that he got from being so close to him at last was intoxicating. He darted his tongue out, pressing at the slit before circling the crown as one hand came to wrap around the base of Dean's dick and hold it up for him as he administered to it. 

He was driven on by each soft panting sound he drew from Dean, mesmerized by the fact that this man who was older, and taller, and broader then him could be so submissive to him. It gave him a buzz he'd never known before, and he yearned to find out more ways to make this headstrong man crumble beneath him. He laved his tongue down the silky column of skin and admired the length as he sucked gently at the base with an open mouthed kiss. 

"For your first time giving a blow job-" Dean sucked in a sharp breath as Cas experimented with rolling his balls around in his palm. "You're pretty damn good at this." 

Cas laughed softly, his hot breath fluttering across Dean's sac and making it tense up with need. "I uh...kind of practiced a good bit back in high school with the hopes I'd get a boyfriend." He shrugged, blushing as he licked up Dean's length again. "Guess it paid off." He murmured, sucking the crown into his mouth finally and accustoming himself to the feel of soft, yet firm flesh between his lips, on the tip of his tongue. He was careful not to use any teeth as he sucked and drew in a little more, screwing his eyes up in concentration. 

Dean laced his fingers through Cas' dark hair and groaned softly as he was taken in a little more each time Cas slid down. He felt his head hit the back of the man's throat and eased Cas back off with a soft noise of protest. He didn't want Cas to choke himself. 

Cas slid off slowly, opening his eyes and looking up to Dean with lust blown eyes, his lips swollen and slick and pink. Dean's eyes darted across Cas' face, taking in his expressions, the look in his eyes, the way his tongue circled the tip of his cock. He shuddered as he felt a dry finger suddenly brush beneath his balls and along the bridge of skin that led somewhere much more intimate than Dean was prepared for. He bit his bottom lip hard and tugged at Cas' hair a little in warning, tilting his hips a bit down so there was less access. Cas let out a soft hum of understanding, kissing Dean's hip lightly. 

"Not gonna do anything." He promised gently, pressing against his perineum again, nail just brushing the edge of the hole. Dean squirmed, feeling his body clench at the strange feeling, the little jolt of electricity that darted straight to his balls and made them tense up more. 

Cas smiled at the more ragged sounds he was drawing from Dean at the extra stimulation, and went back to work on the length beneath his nose, wanting to hear Dean actually moan. He rolled his tongue along every edge he could reach, swirling his tongue and finding little dips and raised veins. He smiled when he felt Dean growing impatient, taking him back in his mouth and sucking eagerly, harder than before, hallowing out his cheeks and squeezing Dean's balls with one hand as the pad of his finger pressed lightly at the man's hole, not pushing in, but letting him know it was there. 

Dean came with a strangled groan, fingers clenching tight into Cas' hair and the other hand shoving over his mouth to quiet the sounds he was making as his cum filled Cas' mouth with a small jerk of his hips up, deeper into the warm mouth. 

Cas swallowed what he could, flushing at the pleasant taste and pulled back slowly to lick clean what escaped, admiring the sight Dean made sprawled across his arm chair like this. 

The moment he met Dean's lust blown, dazed expression he was being grabbed, manhandled around and pushed into the same spot Dean had been a moment ago. Without a word Dean was ridding Cas of his pants, drawing them down his pale legs and freeing his straining cock that had left a bit of a wet mess in his underwear from his pre-cum. 

Dean dragged his hands down Cas' chest, brushing thumbs over his nipples as he leaned up over him and kissed him hotly. His callous rough hands glided down Cas' chest, teasing his sides with firm strokes of his fingers, and then lower to his hips. Still leaning over him, he wedged Cas' legs open wider with his hips and settled in close to him, rolling his semi-hard, already sated cock along side Cas' to give him some friction and skin to feel at last. 

Cas sucked in a startled breath, moaning into Dean's mouth as he was plundered. Dean licked the taste of himself from Cas' mouth before moving his lips down Cas' neck, sucking a mark or two on the way down, his hands finding Cas' hips as his lips found one of Cas' nipples and gave it extra attention with the cool touch of his tongue piercing along the budded flesh. Seamlessly Dean's lips made their way lower as Cas felt himself drawing closer and close to release, already wound so tight from his go with Dean's own body. He watched in amazement as Dean's hands smoothed back up his sides and caressed the edges of his ribs as Dean darted his tongue into his belly button, sucking at the skin of his belly as his hands smoothed back down once again, one holding his hip as the finally, finally, wrapped around his leaking cock. 

He couldn't fight the deep throaty moan that escaped as he felt those rough hands glide over his sensitive skin. He wreathed and let out a small whimper, wanting more of Dean. He sucked in a breath when Dean's green eyes jumped up to him, holding his gaze as he lowered himself further, and darted his tongue out to taste the tip of Cas' cock. He held his breath as he watched that pink muscle slide down his length, circle his balls with the agonizingly wonderful brush of metal along his skin, and then made it's way back up. With a pause and a small wink, Dean was suddenly swallowing Cas down to the base, sucking hard and rolling his tongue and it's metal teaser along his rigid flesh. 

"A-ah! D-dean!" He rasped, voice a rough scrap in his throat as he tried to hold on to the cushions for dear life. His hips ached to arch forward, to thrust into that warm mouth, to fill Dean in everyway. He gasped as Dean slid up and off and kissed sweetly at the crown of his cock as green eyes sparkled in mischief. 

"Don't hold back on me, okay?" He rasped out a little rougher than normal, his voice gruffer from his moans and gasps earlier and the rough scrape of cock against his throat. Without giving Cas any chance to comment, he was engulfing Cas down again, sucking and purring around him. Cas let out a silent gasp as he felt Dean's throat work around him, the vibrations jolting him all the way through his body. Without any control, he was grabbing Dean's short sandy brown hair and gripping it hard as he thrust upwards into his mouth. The low groan of approval egged him on and soon he was thrusting deep into Dean's willing mouth with short, needy jerks of his hips, his orgasm rising faster and faster. 

When Cas felt like he could barely take any more, he felt Dean's fingers wrap around his balls, massaging them as his other hand reached up and played with a nipple expertly, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. It was all Cas could stand, he stilled on one last thrust into Dean's mouth, practically grinding into his mouth as his feet dug into the floor for purchase, his orgasm washing through him in a startling wave of pleasure that left him feeling numb. 

He came down slowly, groaning and mewling to the feel of Dean's throat swallowing around him. He reluctantly let go of Dean's hair and slid his hands down the side of his face, brushing his thumb under his eye as he encouraged Dean to slide off at last. With a wet, obscene pop, Dean's mouth slid off of Cas' glistening length, and those naturally obscene lips shimmered with saliva and cum as he licked them clean. They were bruised and swollen and just the sight of them did things to Cas he never knew a pair of lips could. 

"Well damn." 

Dean laughed roughly, sliding up Cas' body and pressing a trail of kisses along the way before he nuzzled into Cas' neck with a wet kiss there. "Got a bit cared away." He said in a fucked out, hoarse voice. 

Cas groaned and dug his fingers into Dean's hair, dragging him up for a hot kiss. They ended up making out like that for about half an hour, just laying there half on the chair half off, completely naked and just enjoying gentle exploratory touches and caresses.

A loud grumbling of Dean's stomach drew a startled laugh from Cas, and they finally parted. Pulling on their boxers (it was Novemeber now, after all, they needed some clothes to stay warm), and Dean his teeshirt, they padded into Cas' tiny kitchen together and raided his cabinets.

"I'm sorry there isn't much here. I was planning to do some shopping tomorrow when I went to get drinks." He said as they looked through the raided fridge together. Dean was wrapped around his back, his muscled arms felt so reassuring around his smaller runners form. 

Dean hummed. "I know something we can make." He said, reaching in and taking out the last two eggs Cas had, setting them on the counter, grabbing the last of the bacon pack that had maybe 2 or three pieces left, and then went over to the cabinets and grabbed out some noodles. 

Cas raised a brow at him, curious what Dean was going to make. "This looks time consuming." He commented dryly, looking at the ingredients.

Dean laughed, shuffling past Cas with a quick peck of his cheek. "Good thing I like spending time with my boyfriend." He whispered lowly before moving around him to grab a pot to boil water in. 

After dinner they ended up sitting and watching Star Wars together, since Cas claimed he had never seen it. Dean bossily demanded they go out and get it and ventured off to find a redbox and rent it. On the drive back Michael called Dean asking if he'd mind a friend coming along to their guy's night the next day, explaining that he'd have no issue kicking the bastard out if he seemed like he was going to be a third wheel the whole night. Dean just laughed and said sure, just to make sure he didn't mind a little guy on guy action. Michael nearly screamed in his ear with excitement at what that comment meant and Cas burst out laughing at the chagrinned look on Dean's face as he dealt with his room mate. 

With a threat that he'd barricade the door so he couldn't get back in for the night, Michael said goodbye, warning Dean not to even think about coming home for the night. Dean spluttered and hung up the phone with a quick snap of the lid, shaking his head at the nerve of other guy. Cas sliding closer and whispering in his ear that he wasn't planning to let him go anyways completely derailed his frustrations though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should have another tumblr picture inspiration post up soon. <3


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Sam practically broke both their ribs at the news, squealing in delight as he picked Cas up bodily and spun him around a little before plopping him back down next to Dean. Cas stared widely at the taller man, thrown off by just how much taller he really was! It was a whole different world being lifted to Sam's height level like that. Dean blushed and avoided Sam's probing taunts and punched Sam in the arm roughly when he made a comment that struck very close to home with what they'd done the night before. 

After meeting up for that rowdy hour during the morning, they had to part ways until later that night, Dean saying he'd swing by and pick up Cas after work. With the plan set in motion, they headed off to do their own thing. Cas had to study for a big test the coming week, and work on a paper as well so he headed to the campus library as Sam bounced off to spend the day with his own significant other since his night was booked already. Dean ached to get off work, and when his 10 hour shift finally ended at 7 he was beyond ready to see his new boyfriend again. 

Cas greeted him with a wet, sloppy kiss before he piled into the car and cuddled up close to Dean's side. It was a chilly day and Dean suspected they'd see snow fairly soon with the weather changing so much every day. He slotted his fingers in with Cas' frozen ones and cranked up the heater as they headed back to his apartment. Before getting out of the car, Dean got in a good five minutes of blissful making out with the other man before clearing his throat and saying the others were probably already waiting on them. Even then it took them a while to climb out of the still warm car and venture inside. 

When they finally headed into the apartment, they heard a few soft voices from Michael's room. Dean narrowed his eyes, suspicious of what was going on in there. He unlayered himself and hung his coat up by the door, taking Cas' from him and hanging it on the back of one of the barstools. "Michael?" 

"Roomie!" Michael's head popped out of his bedroom door and he grinned brightly. "Cas! Cas, come here!" He rushed out, grabbed Cas' wrist and dragged him into his bedroom without giving Dean much time to do more than take the pack of beer Cas had brought from him and bring it to the fridge. He shook his head slowly at his friend's reaction, setting the case of beers into the fridge so they'd stay cold until Sam got there and they could drink. 

Through the wall he could hear a startled exclamation of "Cassie!" From an unfamiliar voice and ventured his way to his room mates door with a confused furrow of his brow at the sound of recognition. He was greeted by the sight of a much shorter male manhandling Cas into a rough, familiar hug, golden brown hair curling just at the base of his neck and at the tips of his ears. 

"Gabe...what're you…" Cas started but Michael butted in before he could finish.

"What a small world! How do you two know each other?" He asked, glancing between the two men with unfiltered interest.

There was a moment of silence before Gabe's smile widened, Cas' cheeks darkened, and they both said "He's my brother." at the same time. Dean nearly choked as heat flooded his face and he had to cough a little into his fist before he could breath normally again. Well damn, in laws already. 

Michael narrowed his eyes, raising a brow and laughing softly. "You look nothing alike!" 

"Half brother's, actually." Gabe smiled, patting Cas' back lightly and finally looking over to Dean in the doorway. "And you must be the famous Dean!" He grinned, stepping past Cas and approaching Dean with an outstretched hand. "Heard a lot about you. Seen...a lot of you." His eyes darted to Michael's desk and Dean's eyes widened in realization. 

"Fuck." He hissed, but it was too late, Cas' eyes were already locked on the display of pictures. He felt his face grow hot as Cas stepped closer, looking at the detailed images of his face. He shot Michael a glare. "You brought him in here on purpose." He growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Of course! You know I love showing off my...collection." He winked at Dean, slinging an arm around Cas' shoulders and grinning as he leaned into his ear. "One of these days I'm gonna add your pretty face and baby blues to this wall." 

"Fucking shit, Mike. Don't creep him out!" Dean huffed, mortified. He hadn't even let Sammy see the extent of Michael's works. Speaking of Sammy, the door opening in the living room indicated the final party member was there, and Dean hastily escaped into the living room with a desperate look at Sammy.

"Saaaaaaaam. Mike's friend is Cas' half-brother." He hissed as Sam hung up his coat next to Cas' on the neighboring bar stool. He raised a brow and set his case of bear on the raised bar top with a snort of laughter.

"Meeting the in-laws already, huh?" 

"In-laws?" Gabriel peaked his head out of Michael's room, big grin on his face as his eyes widened comically at how tall Sam was. "Well damn, you really are a tree." He laughed, coming over and slinging an arm around Dean's shoulders as he stuck out his free hand towards Sam. "I'm Gabriel, or Gabe. Nice to meet you Samsquatch."

Sam laughed softly, shaking his head as he took the smaller man's hand in his. "Nice to meet you, too." 

"So what was this about in-laws?" Gabriel turned to the tense shouldered man slung under his arm, giving him a narrow golden eyed look.

Dean felt like his world was spinning around him as he was assaulted with questions by this stranger so suddenly. He was luckily spared having to answer as Cas emerged from Michael's room with a very prominent flush and wide eyed look. Dean didn't even want to know what Michael had shown him or said to him. 

"Dean's my boyfriend, Gabe." He said casually as he shook his head at the words floating in his head, passing the cluster of men at the bar and going for a beer. "We do gay, manly things together." 

"Oh! Fantastic!" Gabe grinned, patting Dean roughly on the back. "I'll spare you the whole hurt him and die speech until we're good and drunk. Okay? Hey, Cassie grab me one of those fruity ass drinks in there." 

"You and your damn sweet tooth." Cas said under his breath, pulling one out and handing it to his brother, holding out a beer to Dean with a soft eyed look. He could see the overwhelmed look in those green eyes. And damn, Cas could really get used to seeing the man sans-glasses. His face was so much more open and he could see so many more freckles. He already planned to spend one of their future days together trying to count them. But really, he just loved having a straight access view of those expressive green eyes. 

Michael scuttled into the tiny kitchen and wedged in past Cas to grab his own beer, grabbing Sam's pack on the way and sliding it in next to the other cases. "Looks like we're gonna be having a good night with all this booze." He said pleased as he popped his own open on the counter. 

"Alright! House rules." Dean announced, snapping back into the moment, before clearing his throat dramatically. "We have coasters for a fucking reason. And no sassing me about that. I will slap your fucking face if you leave a drink on bare wood." He narrowed his eyes at Michael. "Cans and or bottles go in the bin beneath the sink. We're all men here, so I am implementing the buffalo-club. If any one is caught with their drink in their dominant hand you down that bitch. You get one fuck up, so be careful. Mikey and Sammy know the rules already so you catch them-" He pointed at Cas and Gabe with the neck of his beer bottle. "-You say 'pound it' and make them fucking chug that shit. Even if it's a brand new bottle." He grinned at the eye roll he got from Michael. "Also, if anyone smokes, do it outside, if you want to vomit, we have bathrooms in both our rooms or you can just puke on the neighbor's porch. Not my problem, I just don't want that shit where I walk in the morning. Neighbors don't give a rats ass about noise, so no worries there. Got it?" 

In unison the two newest members of the group nodded and said "Yes sir." Cas had a cautious look in his eyes as he stared at his left hand, making sure his drink was in it instead of his right one. He really didn't want to fuck this up. His brow screwed up in a knot of concentration and he shot Dean a helpless look. 

Dean just smiled, patting him on the back gently, leaning in to his ear to whisper. "I'll go easy on you." He purred softly.

"Alright! And since it's initiation night-" Michael set his drink down and ducked under the counter into one of the cabinets, drawing out a bottle of tequila. "We start with a shot each. No pussying out." He grinned as he went to grab shot glasses from the cabinets above the sink. 

Gabe laughed, settling into one of the bar stools. "I like this group. You guys know how to start the night right. Come on, Cassie. Sit." He patted the empty bar stool as Michael lined up the shot glasses and poured out five drinks. Dean settled in besides Cas and looped his arm around the sitting man's shoulders, resting his free right hand against the crook of Cas' right elbow as a gentle remind and friendly contact. 

Sammy walked around the counter next to Michael and hopped up to sit on it as Michael divvied out the shot glasses. "We're a classy bunch here, so don’t drink yet. We got a thing we do." 

Cas gave Dean a questioning look as the man set down his beer bottle next to Cas' on the bar top and settled his hand around the shot glass, waiting for the others to get ready. Once Michael had his in hand, and raised it, Dean brought his own up against the side with a smirk. Sam's joined it soon after and the two guests caught on quick, bringing their quirky array of shot glasses together into the cluster.

Michael grinned, looking each of them in the eye before saying proud and loudly. "To cheap drinks and good company!" 

As one they downed their shots, Cas letting out a weak little cough at the burn down his throat. It went down a little rougher than normal, and his mind instantly flashed to the night before, eyes darting to watch as Dean swallowed his own portion, watching his adam's apple work as he took it down. He flushed brightly at the small grimace Dean gave, their eyes meeting for a second as they both thought about their bonding moment the night before. 

"Damn, you two are going to be all over each other tonight, aren't you?" Michael laughed, patting Dean's shoulder as he passed. "Alright! To the coffee table. We're playing a drinking game." He said, proudly taking his claimed spot on the floor opposite the middle section of the couch so he was the head master of the game. He pulled out a deck of cards from a slender drawer in the table as the others relocated and slid out a few extra coasters as well.

Sam flopped down on the floor on the other side of the table from Michael and stretched out his long legs in the space besides the table's legs. Dean ushered Gabriel into the middle before flopping down and taking a spot on the other free end of the table, dragging Cas down into his lap without any warning. He grinned at the squeak he got and kissed the side of Cas' neck in apology. 

"Alright. So here's the deal. Have you two ever played Circle of Death?" Michael asked with a raised brow, looking at the two new comers.

Cas and Gabe shook their heads, causing Michael to sigh and Dean to laugh softly. "Okay, I'll bring out the rules. They're a bit different then normal COD rules anyways, so whatever. I'll read them out and then you to can keep them over there to look at. Ace we do waterfall. Which means we all drink until the person to our lefts stops or finishes their drink. Fucking chug man. 2 is you. You point at someone and they fucking drink. 3 is me, so the person who draws it drinks. 4 is floor. You better fucking slap the floor or the last one out has to drink. 5 is usually guys, so we have a different rule here, Five is what I call lies. Some one has to state a fact and we either give it a thumbs up for true or a thumbs down for false. Who ever gets it wrong drinks. 6 is usually chicks, too, so we changed that too. 6 is called flicks. Whoever draws it has to name a movie and one character or actor, and we go around in a circle until some one can't name one. If you take longer than 10 seconds you drink. 7 is heaven. You mother fucking punch the air. Last one drinks. 8 is hate or mate. Either you can mate with some one and every time you drink they drink, or you can hate on some one and they have to drink for as long as you spit out insulting shit at them without stumbling. They both have their benefits." 

"Yeah, just don't hate on Deano. He's a sensitive baby." Sam snorted on a laugh, getting a back hand to his head. 

"If I fucking get an 8 you're my first hate target." Dean hissed. 

"Alright girls, let me finish." Michael rolled his eyes. "9 is rhyme. We go in a circle and rhyme with the word the first person gives. No repeats or you drink. 10 second rule again. Also, no oranges. 10 is categories, kind of like our flicks card we give a category like colors and we all have to say something blah blah. Jack is never have I ever. We do 3 fingers and state things that we have never done. If some one in the group has done it, a finger goes down. Once you lose all your fingers you drink. Queen is questions. Our rules are different here, too. Normally you have to speak all in questions or you're out and you drink, but what we do is we pick a person and ask them any question we want. They have to answer and drink. And last but not least we have the King card. This is where shit can get troublesome." 

"Oh god, yeah. Michael's a monster." Dean laughed softly.

"If you draw the King card you get to set a rule in place that is in effect until the next king is drawn. Whoever draws the next king can abolish or add on to the previous rule. One of my favorites is making everyone speak in third person. If you get caught not following the rule you drink."

"Well damn. Now I'm excited to play." Gabriel laughed, taking the sheet from Michael who handed it over and setting it on the floor between himself and Cas who was settle between Dean's legs. 

"How do we start?" Cas asked softly, glancing over the rules again. 

A soft groan from Dean drew his attention and he looked up to see Michael grinning. "Since you asked, you start. And we got to the left. Deano is gonna go after you." He dictated with a grin. 

Dean shot Michael the middle finger and nudged Cas to draw a card. First one out was a four, and Cas crinkled his brow as he set it down, trying to remember what the rule was. When he heard the slap of hands on the floor he hurried to set his own down, knocking into Dean's thigh instead and flushing. "Alright! Cas is out. Drink. " 

With an embarrassed flush and slight scowl he sipped at his drink, nearly forgetting his loss as he felt Dean lean forward against his back and reach for his own card. Drawing a king he let out a delighted sound as he slapped it down in the middle of the ring of cards.

"Aha! Bitch!" He pointed at Michael and grinned triumphantly. "Alright. Rule. We all have to speak in an accent from now on but no one can pick the same one."

Michael groaned. "Righto, deary." He mocked in a british accent. "Dibs on the cockney, than." He huffed, drawing his own card. Going in a circle they all reacted to the nine he drew, Cas startling Dean with a very convincing Russian accent.

"Well hell, that's one way to rile a man up. You got a little Russian in you?" Dean rasped in the Scottish accent he adopted pretty convincingly. 

Cas let out a soft chuckle, turning and giving Dean a suggestive brow wiggle as he let out a low "Maybe, would you like a little Russian in you?" 

Dean's face instantly turned scarlet and he poked Cas in the side as he buried his face in his neck to hide from the others. "Later." He whispered after the round had ended with Sammy drinking and drawing his next card. 

When it got to Gabe he drew a queen, peering around the group with a soft hum. He flipped the card between his fingers as he looked at the men he was unfamiliar with. "Who to probe, eh?" He said in a bad imitation of an Italian accent. "Deano!" He grinned, turning suddenly to the man besides him. "Drink up. I got a question for you." 

Dean groaned, downing a gulp of his beer as he looked at Gabriel in trepidation. 

"Have you ever done anal?" 

Dean nearly spit his drink out, bringing a hand up to his mouth to save Cas from the spray as he swallowed down thickly. He gave the other man a pathetic little look, that screamed 'whygod?'. Gabe just smiled at him innocently, ignoring the punch to his knee he got from Cas. 

"Define anal." He rasped out.

Gabe raised a brow at that. "Has any one ever pushed something past your rosy puckered hole before?" 

Dean grimaced, scrunching up his face at the man's blatant question and the very curious looks trained on him. "Technically." 

"Hey now, no technicalities. Answer the question." Gabe probed. "What have you had up your ass?" 

Dean groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "God, I always get targeted for this shit." He refused to look at anyone as he cleared his throat. "Alright, alright." He grumbled as Gabriel prodded his side. "Someone's fingers." He mumbled, hesitating before his eyes darted to Sam's and they shared a look for half a moment before Dean looked away again. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Learn something knew everyday…" He said in a raspy voice, forgetting to do his French accent for a moment as he stared down at his drink. Cas bit as his bottom lip in curiosity, remembering their first night together and Dean's reaction to his exploring touch.

"Well then!" Michael cleared his throat as well. "Sam-o drink up. That was an awkward answer for sure, me dears. Cas-o you're turn my tea-cup." 

Cas bit at his bottom lip before continuing the game with a two that he used on Gabriel for being a dick to his boyfriend. When Dean went they got their first jack. Fingers came up and Dean started with a rough scottish drawl of "Never have I ever been to Russia." He smirked at the indignant look Cas gave him as he and Gabriel put down their fingers. 

Michael continued with "Never have I have had anything up my ass." He laughed out, giving Dean and Cas a pointed look. They both put their fingers down. 

Sam chuckled at the middle finger Dean flashed his room mate and continued on. "Never have I ever…" He hummed in thought, trying to think of something he could target at Dean. "Gotten a piercing." 

Dean and Michael's fingers went down and Sam shot Michael a startled look. The dark haired man let out a laugh, waving his two held up fingers down at his lap. "Hey, I got a kinky side too." He waggled his eye brows suggestively, getting a kick to his knee. 

"TMI, dude." Sam rolled his eyes as he forced an accent on his words sloppily.

Gabriel hummed as he tapped his two remaining fingers against his chin, looking over the group and pondering how to get Dean or Cas out. He grinned as he looked at Cas, and let out a small chuckle. "Never have I ever tried on girls underwear." 

Cas stared at Gabe open mouthed and turned dark red, barely noticing Dean's final finger going down as well. "That was one time!" 

"Sure it was. What about you, Deano? You a one timer?" He drew attention to Dean as he brought his drink to his lips. The green eyed man flashed him a pointed look and downed a gulp. 

"Hey, no shaming on the satin panties, man." He winked with a soft laugh as Sam groaned in dismay at the revealed information. 

"Oh my." Michael laughed softly. "This games certainly getting wild." He grinned in delight as he drew his next card. The game continued around for a while, everyone getting slowly drunker. Dean drew an 8 at one point and rattled off a litany of insults at his brother as promised. Sam had to down a nearly full bottle because of it. 

"Jerk." Sam rasped when he brought the empty bottle down from his lips. 

"Bitch." Dean fired back with a victorious grin on his face. "I warned you." 

Michael drew next, the pile fairly smaller now that they had gone around a few times. Sam had even caught Gabriel with his drink in the wrong hand twice so the man had to down a bottle a couple cards back and was carefully sipping at a new bottle with it cradled in his left hand. "Oh! A queen!" He purred in delight, turning his gaze to Dean instantly. "Alright. Straight answer, or well, slightly crooked answer in your case. I want the damn truth already. What happened to your parents?" 

Sam drew in a sharp breath, staring over at his big brother with a worried set to his eyes. 

Dean sighed, rubbing a hand down his face and taking a drink before clearing his throat. "Mom died in a house fire when I was four. Dad died when I was 19." He mumbled with a shrug, taking another drink as he felt Cas' hand gently settle on his free one. 

Michael let out a hum. "Rough life, man." He mumbled, glancing at Sam to see his reaction to their shared family history. 

"Alright, my turn." Sam said, clearing his throat and quickly drawing the next card, flipping over a 3 which caused him to drink. He gulped down two mouthfuls before nodding for Gabriel to go, trying to clear the air as he coughed at the burn of the drink. 

The rest of the game passed quickly after that, the mood lightening once again and Cas continuously needing to drink for failing the flicks round. Dean ribbed him about how he was going to educate his sorry ass on some good movies. Cas just laughed and accepted his fate as he sank into Dean's arms more and more as the rounds went on. Soon he was practically sprawled across Dean's chest, turned in now so his own chest was flush with the other man's and his arms were around Dean's waist. He was nestled into the crook of his neck and smiling happily as Gabriel taunted Sam over something silly. He'd stopped paying attention. Gabriel had had the last card anyways, so he didn't need to pay attention any more. He was warm and loose and happy and he still couldn't believe he was the boyfriend of Dean fucking Winchester.

He let out a soft laugh and kissed his boyfriend's neck, looking up as Dean tilted his head down to look at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing." He grinned, pressing a kiss to Dean's nose. "I just never thought...I've been pining after you for months now and then just like that...you...you kiss me! In the middle of the coffee shop!" He couldn't stop smiling, unaware of Michael getting up and popping into his room for a moment. 

Dean smiled warmly down at Cas. "Yeah. I did, didn't I." He said with a gentle laugh, leaning in and kissing Cas softly on the lips. He pulled back when he heard a familiar click, looking over Cas' head and spotting Michael with his camera pointed right at them. "God damnit, Mike!" He groaned.

Cas perked up at that, twisting around and staring at the cameraman with big blue eyes. He stretched against Dean like a cat and narrowed his eyes at Michael. "You!" He pointed at the drunk man a few feet away. "Why is your wall covered in his face?" 

Michael laughed big and bright, setting the camera on the coffee table as he came over close to the couple. He startled them by kicking Dean's bowed out knees together slightly and then straddling both of them at once, gripping Dean's shoulders as he hovered over Cas' face. "You see...my friend Camie over there, she has this obsession with his pretty, pretty face, so we decided...let's make him a deal, right?" He glanced up at Dean with a devilish smirk as he leaned into Cas' ear. "I pay for my pleasures." 

Dean smacked the back of Michael's head. "You make me sound like some prostitute, you skank." He growled, rolling his eyes as he pushed Michael off of their laps. "Mike pays part of my rent to use me as his photo class puppet." He explained as Cas turned to look up him. 

"My way of wording it was far more fun." Michael boasted as he leaned in again, brushing a hand through Dean's hair. "It's a pity I'm not gay for you. You really do make a straight boy curious." He teased.

Dean elbowed Michael in the chest and prodded Cas to move as he sat up at last, popping up onto the couch and then standing with a long stretch of muscle. "Want another beer, Cas?" He asked as he grabbed their two empty bottles, heading around the couch to the kitchen area. 

"Yeah." He murmured, spotting something on the lower shelf of the coffee table, narrowing his eyes at the black notebook that was unlabeled. Gabriel and Sam were locked in intense conversation and Michael decided to tail Dean.

"Hey! Mr. Alcoholic. You're taking another shot. You're not nearly drunk enough." Michael proclaimed, unaware of Cas' discovery either. 

Cas pulled the black sketchbook from it's spot and opened it with a curious tilt to his head, flipping to the front page and staring at Dean's messy scrawl and the date he started it. He gulped, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Michael and Dean talking in the kitchen as Michael poured a shot for them both. 

He licked his suddenly dry feeling lips and started flipping through the pages with wide eyed amazement. He heard silence to his right and looked up to see Gabriel and Sam peering over in interest. He flushed, scooting close to his brother's side and showing them the book too as he looked through several more pages. The sudden silence drew the other two guy's attention and Dean came around the couch to see what they were all huddle over. His face paled and then flushed darkly and he leaned over to grab the book, only to have Sam snatch it away from Cas and his hands. 

"Uh uh." He said, earning a dark glare from Dean. "You keep promising to let me see what you draw, so sit down and shut up." 

Dean growled, hands clenching around the bottles in his hands as Sam gave him a challenging look. Michael hurried over and eased his arm around Dean's shoulder, pushing him down onto the couch and moving the bottles to the coffee table. "Just let him have a look. They're all drunk anyways." He pointed out. 

Dean let out a huff, grabbing one of the pillows and clutching it angrily to his chest as he glowered at the back of Sam's head as he opened it back to were they had left off, holding it so Cas and Gabriel could see too. 

"For someone that hates chickflick moments you're treating this like it's your fucking diary." Sam said as he thumbed through a few more pages. Wings of all shapes and dark colors covered the pages in a wide array of light sketches to detailed drawings. Some of the pictures were bloody and dark, and others were bright and full of fire. 

"Fuck you." Dean growled, punching Michael as he sat down at Dean's side and looked over the other guy's shoulders to catch a few looks of his own.

Sam paused on one of a fair haired woman's face and gently brushed his fingers across the half flame covered face. "Are these dreams?" He asked softly, glancing up to see Dean scowling at the wall on the other side of the room. 

"Yeah." He murmured. "Most of them."

Gabriel raised a brow when Sam lingered on the picture a little longer. "Who is she?" 

 

Sam smiled softly, shaking his head. "Mom." He flipped to the next page, but they stalled out as Sam continued on. "I was six months old." He murmured, the alcohol loosening his tongue as he thought about it. "There was some sort of...electrical problem or something...sparked a fire in my nursery." Cas slowly reached out and turned the page back to the one of their mother's face. "I didn't know til about a year or two ago but…" He glanced up and over at Dean with a thankful look. "Dean apparently ran into the room at the cry from mom. She was...she was already burning by then...so he ran over and got me from the crib and ran out of the house." 

There was a heavy silence for a long moment and Dean squirmed under the stare of several eyes on him. He scowled at the pillow in his arms, a muscle in his jaw working. "We all would have been fine if Dad had just fixed the damn wiring like he'd promised. Drunk bastard wasn't even home when it happened...didn't even come home until three hours after the fire to find out his kids had no where else to go so the firefighters had sent us to the police station until someone could come get us." He scoffed, shaking his head. 

"What happened after that?" Michael asked softly, honestly curious, feeling like there was a whole world being shown to him in little snippets of information.

"Dad kept moving us around. Motel to motel." Sam said with a sigh, leaning his head into his propped up elbow on the couch cushion. "He got into some bad business. I didn't really understand at the time. Dean pretty much raised me. Saved my life, really." He said, reaching across Michael and patting Dean's knee. "Best big brother out there. I mean, you were four!" He shook his head. "Dean was four and he had to raise this snot nosed six month old kid." He shook his head. "I wouldn't have been able to do it." 

"He did a good job." Cas said with a soft, comforting smile towards Sam, having wedged his fingers under the tight grip on the pillow Dean had and clutched on to one of his hands. "A damn good job." 

"That's for sure." Sam smiled back, before his attention returned to the notebook. "I didn't know you still saw her face, you know?" 

Dean nodded with a sigh, finally looking over towards his brother with tired eyes, that aged look in his features. "Yeah, every so often. It's harder to remember her now, without looking at the photos." He shrugged. "Kind of hard to forget that one, though." He waved down at the book. "It was my first nightmare." 

"Sorry I brought it up." Sam said, turning the page and letting his eyes settle on the new picture. The rest of the group silently settled back in around the siblings, eyes trapped on the book of dreams. Michael sucked in a small breath when Sam flipped to the one picture Dean had willing shown him before, eyes widening as his eyes darted to Cas and then back to the book. It was uncanny how that image screamed of Castiel. 

Dean shot him a look not to say anything as Sam moved on with a curious brow raise, flipping through. His fingers hesitated over another picture, looking at the outline of a blank, hollow snarling face that even without eyes seemed to stare straight into the soul. He swallowed hard, flipping through more pages as everyone around him sat in silence, fingers occasionally coming up to pause him before he moved in again. As they were getting closer to the end of what Dean had in that book, Dean sat up and held his hand out. "The last few are…" He paused, frowning. "...not pleasant." 

Sam looked up and Cas bit his lip at the silent exchange the two shared. It was obvious the pictures were getting closer to Dean's present state of mind, and the next ones were probably from around the time of his trip. Sam eyes narrowed and Dean let out a sigh, flopping back down and kicking his legs out over Michael as he slumped down and shoved the pillow over his face. 

Cas swallowed hard, wrapping his fingers gently around one of Dean's wrists and looked back to the book, worried he'd not like what he saw. The next page wasn't too bad, just the face of a man that looked like any other middle aged man. Sam paled though and his hands visibly shook as he turned the page and another man's picture was there, a red gash running down the page where his neck should have been. Sam swallowed hard, and his breathing was visibly heavy as he continued on. The next one made Cas gasp, the group as a whole recoiling at the image. There was a figure that was obviously supposed to be a slightly younger version of Sam, with black arms writhing out of his chest and pulling his spine out through his mouth. 

"I think I'm starting to understand you a little more, Deano." Michael rasped, nodding for Sam to turn the page, though he was worried what might greet them next. The next page was milder, a large bloody green eye taking up most of the page with fishing hooks pulling at the skin. Sam let out a shaky humorless laugh and closed the book, shaking his head. 

"I really need to learn to listen better." Sam said with a weak rasp, shoving the book back where Cas had found it and not so subtly wiping at teary eyes. 

"Is it too much for me to ask if...all of those were just dreams?" Gabriel dared, picking at the edge of his beer bottle's label.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Dean rasped from under the pillow.

Gabriel nodded, drawing a small breath and giving it a moment of silence for Sam to compose himself before he cleared his throat. "So!" He stood up, turning around and jabbing Dean in the guts. "It's far too early in the evening for this kind of mopey depressing drunken behavior. I expected you to be a fun drunk group." 

Dean let out a muffled, choked out laugh. "Get Sam another shot and he'll turn into Happy McHapperson." 

Sam let out a scoff, wiping his eyes one last time before indignantly returning with a "Atleast I'm not an aggressive horny drunk. Better be careful with that one, Cas." He teased weakly. 

Michael took that as his cue to grab the pillow from Dean and chuck it across the apartment. "Alright, stop feeling sorry for yourself. What's past is past. CAS. You. I want to show you something much prettier than those dark nasty old dreams. Let's go stare at Dean-o's pretty face, shall we? I want to show you my favorite pictures." He grinned, grabbing at Castiel's hand and dragging him up and off to his bedroom.

"Hey! Don't forget who's boyfriend he really is!" Dean shouted after them, not wanting to get up from the couch. He looked over and met Sam's eyes and sighed, sitting up with a groan. "I think it's time for more tequila." He said thickly, even though he'd had a shot just a bit before Cas made his discovery. 

Everything was smooth sailing from there on, and around 1:30 everyone decided to call it a night. Gabriel crashed on Michael's bed with him and Sammy took the too small couch as Dean linked fingers with his boyfriend and led him down to his bedroom.

Cas yawned softly, nuzzling into Dean's shoulder as they walked, excited at the idea of seeing Dean's room. He was slightly surprised to see it so...clean. It was surprisingly bare and he openly looked around once the light was turned on. Dean laughed softly, leaning in and kissing him pleasantly on the lips before heading to the bathroom. "Gonna brush my teeth. If you want you can snoop, just...no more sketchbooks tonight, okay?"

Cas nodded dumbly, surprised Dean was giving him permission to look through his stuff. He bit at his bottom lip nervously and started with what was nearest at hand: Dean's desk area. He glanced to the open bathroom door and saw Dean's reflection as he got his brush out, his buzz giving him courage to look finally. He smiled to himself and brushed his fingers over the surface of the desk, noting the obvious lack of a laptop, the stack of books they'd been looking through lately, and one that Cas had lent him a few weeks back sitting on top of a notebook clearly filled with writing. He picked up the book and flipped open the notebook, smiling when he saw in Dean's bold messy scrawl "Quotes to memorize for Cas" lining the top of the page. He set the book back down and looked around more, spotting a picture taped up to the wall of what Cas recognized now as Dean's mother. Next to it was a picture of a dark haired man holding two young kids on Dean's beloved impala. He swallowed thickly, wondering what kind of man their father was, and reached out to see if he could find a name on it. 

From the bathroom Dean's alcohol roughened and foam filled voice filled in what he was looking for. "Name's John." He said just clear enough for Cas to understand and he offered a small smile Dean's way. He flushed to see the man leaning against the door frame watching him search and lowered his gaze shyly. He turned instead to the next picture on the wall, smiling easier at the picture of Sam leaning against a fence looking towards the viewer.

Dean finished brushing his teeth, spitting out the foam and rinsing for another minute before coming over to the desk and pulling out the chair, drawing Cas down onto his lap and pointing to the picture of Sam.

"This was right before Sam and I came up here. We took this long cross country trip all around and finally went down to the Grand Canyon. We never got very many pictures growing up, except when we were at Bobby's so I made sure to get a lot of pics on this trip. We had a whole shoebox full that I left at Bobby's place."

"Who's Bobby?" Cas asked as he brushed his fingers over a few random items on the desk. A pocket knife, a mini impala car, a sticky note with four numbers scrawled on it with initials by each one. He flushed at the little CN next to his and smiled as he recognized SW for Sam, and then assumed the next two were MC for Michael and BS for Bobby. 

"He's...well. Sort of my uncle. Adoptive dad fits better, I guess. He was friends with my parents when I was really little, and when shit went to hell I took Sammy and we went to live with him. Best choice I ever made. Should have done it years sooner. Sam and I always refer to him as Uncle Bobby. Best damn man alive, that's for sure. Taking in to half dead brats whose father hated his guts. He's a saint. His wife was murdered before we knew him, so he never had any kids of his own, but he made a damn fine dad." 

Cas hummed softly, leaning in and nuzzling Dean's cheek. "What's he like?" 

Dean laughed roughly at that, smiling big though. "Ornery as hell. Protective. Smart as hell. He was the one that convinced me to get a GED." He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck that indicated he was shy about something. "Taught me a lot of things...really." He said softly, reaching into one of the top desk drawers, pulling out what looked like a beat up old leather journal. He set it on the table and flipped it to the back where an old photo was clipped onto the back cover. 

Cas peered at it closer, squinting his eyes to focus a bit with the slight buzzing hum of alcohol still in his blood. "He looks...gruff." He nodded.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah." He pulled the picture free and set it down on a free space of the desk top, closing the journal back up. "He taught me all I know about cars, and a lot of what I know about cooking." He admitted, feeling oddly open right now with Castiel warm in his lap. He trusted Cas, and talking about Bobby was something good to focus on about his past. "I mean, you heard Sammy earlier, I pretty much raised the kid. I was lucky I didn't poison us both. There were weeks when I would literally steal food out of garbage cans or dumpsters behind stores to make sure we had enough to eat. Dad…" He frowned. "John never recovered after mom's death. Used to take us all over. Never had enough money to get us through the nights he left without a word…I tried my best to keep us alive...keep Sam fed." 

Cas gently ran a hand through Dean's hair before pressing a kiss to his temple, watching the way Dean's eyes closed at the gentle touch. A part of his heart tightened at the sight, wondering how much Dean had been hurt. The more he learned the more it felt like the person who was supposed to love him most let him down. He'd always been putting others before himself, always been watching out for Sam, always worrying. It was like a comforting kiss to the temple was something he'd never received before, something he should have had plenty growing up from loving parents telling him there weren't monsters in the dark.

"You did a great job, Dean. I mean…" He cupped the man's cheek and made sure he met his eyes. "Look at Sam. He's a moose. A tree. You sacrificed your childhood to give him a chance at normalcy, didn't you? No kid should ever have to go through trash to feed themselves, or to feed their brother. You're incredible, Dean. A survivor. And you're….you are so handsome and so strong and so...so absolutely wonderful. I may not know everything about your past, or the horrors of your memories...but...I'm glad that path led you to me." 

Dean's tongue darted over his lips and he nodded slowly, eyes darting away for a moment before he let a weak little smile curve his lips and he turned watery green pools towards Cas. "Thank you…" He whispered, cupping Cas' hand under his against his cheek. "Thank you for finding me." 

Cas smiled, chest tight and full. He didn't know how anyone could hurt this beautiful creature, this incredible man. "Thanks for making such good coffee." He whispered back, fighting his own stinging eyes.

The warm, watery laugh soothed Cas' heart and he leaned down to kiss Dean passionately, slowly, trying to pour all of his feelings into the kiss. He didn't know how it had happened, but he'd fallen completely in love with Dean Winchester. He should have known from that first day in the coffee shop that he wouldn't be able to look away, to see any one else. He'd had no chance, no choice. He was Dean's completely. 

Their kiss stretched into lazy caresses and Cas melted at the gentleness in the big hands holding his cheek, brushing through his hair, sliding down his arms and side and stroking him to completion in his lap. He panted and moaned into Dean's slow, earnest kisses, holding on to his broad shoulders as he was dragged through his orgasm with sure, confident strokes from that calloused hand. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Dean's as he came down from the wave of pleasure that was so different from the day before. He'd never really thought much about sex like this, about how there could be so much passion in rough and gentle kisses, so much need conveyed in quick desperate blow jobs and slow teasing hand jobs. 

Without giving Dean a chance to argue, he slid his hand down his clothed chest, leaning in to kiss him back passionately as he slid off his lap slowly, undid his pants and planted a kiss to his exposed skin. He reached up and took Dean's soiled hand in his by the wrist and licked it clean slowly, sucking on each digit until it was clean. When he was done he kissed the palm and turned his attention to the straining length beneath him. He traced a prominent vein and smiled against Dean's skin as he adjusted his legs under the desk, looking up at Dean with adoration in his eyes as he linked his fingers with the spit moist hand. Without any rush he tasted Dean, caressed him and sucked him to completion, swallowing down the salty substance without pause as he leaned into Dean's hand on his cheek. They shared a few more slow, passionate kisses before Cas tugged Dean from the chair and to the bed, pushing him down onto his back and stripping him of his pants slowly, leaving a line of kisses down his bowed legs. Pulling his own undone pants off, he slid into the plush blankets next to Dean and curled into his side as Dean reached over and turned off the bedside light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more inspiration pictures for yal. 
> 
> http://waffle-san.tumblr.com/post/63854777225/some-more-tracing-memories-fic-inspiration-images


	8. Chapter 8

Cas woke up to the sounds of people talking not to far from him. He frowned when he felt the empty bed besides him, but the still there warmth from Dean's body. He curled into the spot and nested into the soft comforter. He really needed to steal this from Dean, it was so comfortable. It was like being asleep on a cloud. The sound of Sam's voice nearby made him open his eyes, and he squinted at the sliver of light coming from the bathroom door. He peeked out of the blankets to see the clock glaring red numbers at him that read "6:05". It was way too early to be awake, what were they doing up?

"Dean, you need to stop hiding this stuff from me! You should have told me!" Sam hissed in a bad attempt at keeping his voice low. 

Dean's groan was sure to have been accompanied by an eye roll. "No. I shouldn't have and I didn't for a reason, damnit." He hissed back in a low gruff. "What I went through back then was to keep you safe, to keep that kind of stuff from happening to you. So don't you yell at me. I didn't want you to know for a reason. I knew you'd make a big deal out of it."

"Damnit, Dean." Sam sounded lost. "Just-" His breath hitched, and trembled as he tried to speak again. Cas' heart pulled painfully with the understanding tears must be in his friend's hazel eyes. He wanted to sink back into the comfort of sleep but he needed to know what was going on. There was no way he could just go back to bed without knowing what else they'd say. He wanted desperately to be there to comfort both of the brothers, and he didn't like that what ever Dean had done was causing this much raw pain. "Did he rape you?"

Cas' eyes bolted wide open and he blinked against the darkness of the room, staring at the closed bathroom door where they had obviously gone to find some privacy. He could not have heard that right. 

"God." Dean's voice was a croak. "No. No, Sam. No." He said and the sound of shuffling feet made Cas curious to know what was going on. "Never. You know I…" He cut off without another word.

Sam's muffled voice made Castiel imagine the two holding on to each other. "Damnit, Dean, just...damnit." He was definitely crying. "I'm worried about you." He admitted weakly. "...that. The nightmares." He sniffled. "I hate them. I hate them both so much. God, I wish I could go back and stop it all from happening." 

"I know, Sammy. I know…" Dean whispered softly. "They're gone though. Az is dead and Al hasn't found us for years. Bobby and I made sure of that. They're gone, they're just ghosts to us now and they're going to stay that way. I promise."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt...you know? I hate seeing -hate knowing they're still hurting you after so long." 

"I'm fine. I promise. You know me, I'm tough as nails." He laughed dryly. "Plus, you're safe, I'm free, and...and we're finally settling down. It feels good." 

"Yeah…" Sam said, Cas barely able to hear the soft words. "You think…" He paused, sounding unsure. "You think you'll ever tell Cas about it all?" 

Quiet for a long moment before a weary sigh. "Maybe. He makes me happy, you know? And he's easy to talk to...maybe one day. I don't want to scare the kid off, you know." 

"He's tougher than he looks. He'll stick around, I can tell." 

"Yeah." A soft laugh. "He…" Dean cleared his throat. "I told him about Bobby and...and a little about growing up last night and he just...he got it. It was like he could see right through all my layers, everything. God, I think I'm falling for him, Sammy. Falling hard." 

"The big L?"

A shaky laugh. "Yeah…maybe." A whisper. "Fuck, if Dad weren't gone he'd be skinning me for even looking at another guy."

"Well I'm glad he's gone. He was a sick fuck who screwed us all over. And I don't care if he was a homophobic idiot, I'm not. And as long as you're happy I don't care who you love." 

"Thanks, Sammy." A pause. "I'm still not gay, though."

Sam laughed easily. "Yeah, sure Dean. Whatever you say." 

The sound of a slight smack startled Cas and he buried himself into the sheets, flushing hot at everything he'd overheard. Did Dean love him? And fuck, what kind of past did they have where Sam thought someone might have raped his brother, where the mere mention of their past brought such a deep seated pain to their voices? He was terrified and comforted all at once. Dean wanted him, maybe loved him, and at the very least trusted him. And he could already tell Dean's trust was hard to come by.

"Oh shut up and get out of here. It's Sunday, I don't have to work and I have a warm body to curl up next to, so scram. I want to get my cuddle time in. And don't you even fucking laugh at that. Everyone fucking loves to cuddle, so get your ass out of here." He said, opening the bathroom door and pushing Sam through and towards the bedroom door. 

Sam smiled softly, catching Dean's shoulder when he reached the bedroom door, making him turn and pulling him into a big hug. Dean let out a soft sigh, hugging back with everything he had, patting Sam's back as he pulled back. "Tell Jess I said hey." 

"I will. Call me tonight?"

"Yeah. Now scram. The bed's probably getting cold." He said, pushing Sam out and closing the door before turning to the bed. With the bathroom light off he came back to the bed in darkness, hesitantly testing the covers to find Cas half curled into his side of the bed. 

A soft laugh had Cas stirring, pretending to wake up so it didn't seem suspicious. With a little, real, yawn he blinked owlish blue eyes up at Dean as he pulled the covers back and pushed at his side gently to make him move over.

"Mmm. What are you doing up?" He asked in a sleep rough voice, curling into Dean's side and burying his face in his neck as the older man pulled the sheets back up around them. 

"Saying bye to Sammy." He said, brushing fingers through Cas' hair and kissing his forehead gently. "Go back to bed. It's still early." 

Cas nodded lightly, pressing a dry lipped kiss to Dean's neck and sighing contentedly. "Yessir." He whispered gently, pressing closer. "As long as you stay with me." 

"I will, babe. I will." Dean said with a gentle rumble of a laugh that vibrated through Cas' arms around him. He smiled and breathed Dean in deep, letting himself file away what he'd overheard for later, perfectly content to fall back asleep in Dean's warm arms. What he'd over heard could wait until later. 

When he woke again, it was almost 11, and Dean was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the wall and his pillows with Cas' head in his lap. He yawned into Dean's thigh and let out a soft rumble of question, turning his face into Dean's hip and nuzzling into his chest in greeting. 

"Mornin'." 

"Morning sleepy head." Dean said softly, a hand landing in his hair and brushing through his wild locks. 

"Mmmmm." Cas purred in delight, nuzzling closer as he rest his cheek on Dean's belly and wrapped his arms around his waist. "What're you doing?" He hadn't opened his eyes to check yet.

"Drawing." He said, tapping the top of Cas' head with the hard spine of the sketchbook. "I have this lovely new model to practice drawing." He said with a teasing tone.

Cas' eyes opened in narrow slits at that and looked up at Dean with a scrunched up face. "You're drawing me?" He reached up and grabbed for the book. "Lemme see." He demanded, pulling it down and into the crook of Dean's elbow so he could view it without moving much. He squinted at the quick sketch of his face, the stretch of his back. He raised a brow as he saw the shadow of wings Dean had started adding to the picture. "Why wings?"

Dean brushed his fingers through Cas' hair gently, and then down his back to settle lightly on his shoulder blades. "They just…" He hummed, pressing his fingers tips in and bringing his other arm around to press his fingers in deep to the muscles of Cas' shoulders, dislodging the sketchbook from it's perch as he massaged in deep. "...I dunno. They felt like they belonged." 

Cas let out a contented mewl as Dean's strong hands pressed into his sleep loosened muscles and he shifted slightly to flatten himself more along Dean's side so his back was in easy access. He wrapped both arms back around Dean tight after making sure the book fell closed safely at his side and he groaned in appreciation at the treatment. "You seem to draw a lot of wings…" He commented softly.

Dean hummed in agreement, nodding. "Yeah." He smiled down at Cas. "Mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me as a kid. She'd say it every night before I went to bed." He explained with a deep press into the sides of Cas' neck. "It was the last thing she said to me, actually. Kind of stuck with me. I have a lot of dreams of this...this figure just standing in the darkness with these big wings on his back. Sometimes…" He paused, clearing his throat. "Sometimes it just watches me, is there at the edge of my dreams, sometimes twisted and dark and...and dangerous. I don't know...I used to think it was my mom watching over me after she died. The first dream I can remember was right after she died. I was so little, but I can still remember thinking that in that fire when I went to get Sam...I mean...I saw her laying there burning, just...writhing, but I...I remember dreaming that night of this figure with massive black wings just standing over her, surrounded by flames but untouched by them…" He cleared his throat again. "I used to think it was my guardian angel. As I got older I would have that dream and the figure would just shake it's head at me whenever I tried to go save my mom. It was telling me to stay back, to stay away, to grab Sammy and just run." 

Cas blinked up at him, blue eyes intent on his face. He reached around and grabbed Dean's hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing it gently before entwining their fingers. "Can I be your angel from now on?" 

Dean's smile was bright, electric, and Cas shivered in pleasure at the look in Dean's eyes. "Whatever you want, Cas." He whispered, squeezing the fingers around his and brushing the other hand back through his hair and cradling his head close. They were silent for a while after that, just resting together before Cas heard a soft sound from Dean. He turned his head and looked up at him in question. 

"My blue eyed angel." Dean said with a tiny smile, bringing Cas' linked fingers up to his lips and kissing them. 

Cas' heart twisted, tightened and expanded as he soaked in more of Dean, more of Dean's loving nature, more of the soft eyed looks, more of the gentle touches that meant so much more than they should. He couldn't stop himself from leaning up, grabbing the side of Dean's face and crashing their lips together.

"Your angel." He whispered against Dean's lips when he pulled away, smiling big and bright as he leaned in again, and again, unable to get enough of him. He couldn't stop falling for Dean if he tried.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update, had finals and classes, but I've got a bit more written. I'll try to have my christmas chapter up tomorrow sometime, hopefully. Sorry this chapter is so short too! better than nothing though.

"Deaaaan, Dean, please?" Cas whined up at his now almost month long boyfriend. "I want to watch." 

Dean groaned, pulling one of Cas' pillows over his face and curling into the bed to avoid those puppy dog eyes. They'd been dating since that night near halloween, and it was now nearing the end of the fall semester. They'd had a small Thanksgiving celebration over break, but they hadn't had all the much free time together. Sam and Dean had driven off to spend the actual day with Bobby. Cas and Jessica had both been invited, but were too busy with their own family demands. 

Sam had finally revealed the mysterious Jessica about three weeks ago. Dean had met her once or twice, but until then Cas hadn't seen the mysterious girlfriend Sam had hiding behind his phone. They'd instantly became good friends, and swapped numbers. To Dean's dismay, the blond loved teasing him whenever she managed to pop by the coffee shop, and had become Cas' go to for advice on how to deal with one Dean Winchester. It helped that she had Sam in her back pocket for that bit, too. 

"Deaaaaaan." He tugged at Dean's sleeve and nuzzled into his neck, brushing his nose into the spot right behind his ear where he knew the other was ticklish. "Come on, I've seen you naked!" 

"This is different, though." He muffled into the pillow, wiggling a little at the ticklish touch. 

"How? You're handsome, you have a great face, you photograph like a doll. Why won't you let me watch?" Cas had gotten word of Michael's newest photo shoot for Dean, and had been begging for the past week to sit in and watch them. Dean was reluctant, and had yet to offer up a good explanation for why he didn't want his boyfriend there.

"I just…" Dean couldn't spit out an excuse like he had been lately, knew Cas wasn't buying any of them. He groaned and tossed the pillow aside, wrapping his arms around Cas suddenly and flipping them over so his bigger body was pinning Cas down and his face was buried in the other's neck. He let out a sigh, breathing warm air across Cas' neck. 

"Dean, what's really the matter?" Castiel asked softly, running his fingers through Dean's hair gently, and kissing the side of his temple. "It's obviously a big deal since you're fighting me tooth and nail on this. Please, just an honest answer?" 

Dean frowned and buried in closer, wrapping his legs with Cas' in the loose sheets. He stayed quiet for a long time, causing Cas to sigh slightly in defeat and just nuzzle the side of his head again and kiss the soft locks of hair that Dean always kept short but had let grow out a little more with the colder weather. It was thick and fluffy and Cas ran his fingers through it again gently. 

"I don't…" Dean said suddenly, turning into Cas' neck a little more, so his nose was brushing under his jaw slightly, rather then tucked over his shoulder. "I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of you, okay? I'm...I'm self conscious." He said in a stiff tone.

Cas couldn't help the soft snort of laughter, schooling himself when he felt Dean stiffen and start to move away. He wrapped himself around him fast and cleared his throat. "Don't even try to move." He declared, rolling his eyes at the wiggle he got in return. "You're self-conscious? Really? But you're the most confident, fool hardy person I know. I've never seen you care about making a joke out of yourself before, why would letting me watch you model make a difference?" 

Dean let out a huff of air against Cas' chest and refused to look up at him, heavy and limp on top of him. "I just...I am okay? I don't...I don't want to disappoint you. And I'm afraid if you're there I'll freeze up and not be able to focus and I don't want to mess up and cause Michael problems. I don’t want to let you guys down." He said, picking at Cas' shirt sleeve. 

Cas sucked in a little breath, closing his eyes and kissing the other softly on the forehead before tilting his head up. "Dean, I could never be disappointed in you. And you've never let any of us down. Sam and Michael can both swear by that. I have faith if you, Dean, you'll do perfect no matter the situation." 

Dean worried his bottom lip and glanced away before turning his eyes back to Cas. It was always a bit of a sucker punch to realize despite Dean's confident façade all the time, he was really this self-conscious, fragile being underneath. Since Cas had been spending so much time with him, he'd started to notice the little subtleties of Dean, and seeing this vulnerable look in his eyes was like a punch. Dean was always doing his best for others, and he took all the fault if anything went wrong. He was always there to take the fall if something went wrong, and it hurt seeing him have so little faith in himself. Even with all that Dean had talked to him over the month they'd been together, it was still a slow peel of layers to get Dean to talk about anything in his past. Cas was honestly almost at the point where he wanted to go to Sam, shove the younger brother against a wall and demand the full truth from him. He wanted to understand what had given Dean such a low value of himself. 

"What if…" He started, reaching up and cupping Dean's cheek, brushing his thumb over Dean bottom lip, dislodging it from his teeth. "What if I was there to start, and if you felt uncomfortable I left? I know you'll do fine, Dean. I have full confidence in you. I just want to come admire my boyfriend as he works his magic for the camera. I promise the second you want me gone, I'd be gone. So...please?" He asked softly with a tilt of his head. 

Dean let out a soft sigh that tickled Cas' hand before he was leaning in and kissing Cas gently on the lips, nodding as he pulled back. "Fine. Fine...just…" He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know if I can do it if you're there at the beginning...maybe...maybe you could come in after a little…okay?" 

Cas smiled and nodded, leaning up to kiss Dean again. "Anything. Dean, anything you want." He said, carding his fingers through Dean's hair again and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Said photo shoot was going to be in about an hour, and one of the reasons Cas wanted so badly to be there was because it was in the middle of their usual free time to be together. Michael and Dean had such busy schedules with the end of the semester coming up and Dean being the workoholic that he was, that this was one of their rare free times that lined up together. And it was Dean and his usual movie date night. 

Dean's lips were soft and pliant against Cas, and the blue eyed man still couldn't believe just how passionate Dean could be with just a simple kiss. It honestly floored him at times. Feeling the slow, deliberate licks into his mouth made his body tense, blood rushing lower as he slide his free hand down Dean's back and grabbed his ass, grinding up into him slowly where they were already laying together so closely. He felt Dean's own eager arousal press against one of his thighs and the kiss deepened a little more. They both knew they really shouldn't do this again when Dean had to leave soon, so they refrained from making things get too intense. 

Cas breathed heavily into Dean's kisses, sighing and closing his eyes. He smiled when Dean nuzzled into his neck again, and trailed his fingers up from Dean's ass to his lower back, rucking up the shirt for smooth skin. He let his finger tips trace, and brush up along his spine and frowned a little at the little bumps and irregularities. He'd not really spent much time seeing Dean's back bare, and usually had his hands elsewhere. Feeling tell tale ridges of scars caught him off guard. Dean's front was already covered in a few concerning gashes, but to know more damage was on his back made Cas squirm. 

"If they make you uncomfortable stop fucking touching them." Dean growled suddenly, making Cas go still beneath him. Dean took that as his cue to roll off and sit up, pulling his shirt down to cover his back before planting his feet on the floor, back to Cas.

When he moved to stand up, Cas grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back down, knocked from his stupor. He shook his head, and frowned. "No. Stay." He said, kneeling behind Dean and wrapping his arms around him until he was sure the other man wouldn't try to get up. Sometimes Cas forgot how defensive Dean could get. 

He pulled his arms back slightly, keeping them on Dean' side as he kissed the back of his neck. "Don't move." He instructed, hooking a leg around Dean as he sat behind him and moved to pull Dean's shirt off. He tossed it aside and kissed Dean's shoulder when he felt him tense. "Just…" He settled his hands on Dean's shoulders. " Let me look." He whispered, leaning in and kissing the side of Dean's neck gently.

He smoothed his hands down Dean's back slowly, doing an initial sweep of the damage on Dean's back with his palms and finger tips before leaning back and letting his eyes take in the pale marks. He frowned, realizing how little Dean ever let himself be seen without a shirt. Sure they would fool around and the shirts came off, but Dean was always quick to pull one back on. Cas had thought it was because of how cold it was getting now, with a layer of snow on the ground these days. 

He brushed his thumbs down along the ridge of Dean's spine, admiring the thick muscles but frowning at the scars. There were four or five long raised pinkish white marks that went from his shoulders down to his waist in an arc, crisscrossing. He swallowed hard and traced one. 

"Dean…" He whispered, voice soft and scared. He didn't like what he was thinking, didn't like connecting the scars with what little he knew of Dean's past. It painted a painful picture.

Dean let out a sigh, reaching back and grabbing Cas' hand, pulling it around under his arm and up to his lips, making sure Cas was pulled bodily so he was leaning into his broad back. "I know." He sighed, turning to look over his shoulder. "I…" He frowned, glanced away then back at Cas, green eyes dark and pained. "I can't talk about it yet...it's a bad part of my past that I don't like revisiting...and now's not the time." He murmured, squeezing Cas' fingers lightly in his own. 

Cas brought his free hand up to brush under Dean's eyes softly, seeing the sudden bags and the aged, war torn look in his eyes that hadn't been there before. It scared him how fast just the thought of his past could cause such a look to come to Dean's youthful face. "Okay. When ever you're ready to talk about it…" He said, leaning in to kiss Dean softly, leaning their foreheads together. "I know we haven't been dating long, and haven't known each other for very long at that, even...but I'm here for you, Dean. Truly and honestly. You and Sam are like family to me, and every day I'm with you I fall for you more. I want to be someone you can trust and talk to, so whenever you're ready, I'm here. I promise I won't run, or judge, or laugh. Okay?"

Dean wet his lips nervously and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment of silence before pulling back. "Yeah.." He whispered, bringing his own hand to Cas' cheek and cupping it lightly before pulling back and standing up. "You, uh, ready to go do this photo thing, then?" He cleared his throat, trying to clear the tension in the air as he pulled on his shirt quickly. 

Cas nodded and stood up, but grabbed at Dean's shoulder before he could head to the door. "Come here a second." He said with a soft rumble of his gravely low voice. He tugged Dean around and straightened out the man's t-shirt before looking him straight in the eyes. He smiled softly up at the taller male as he settled his hands on Dean's hips and tiptoed up for a slow, gentle kiss. Cas pulled back slowly, leaning their foreheads together and closing his eyes for a moment. His fingers tightened on Dean's hips before letting go, sliding his arms around Dean's middle and pressing in close for a sudden hug. Sure they cuddled a lot, but Cas felt kind of stupid for how little he just hugged the man when they were standing up, or when they greeted each other or said goodbye. He really did love the feel of Dean's larger arms wrapped around him. 

He pulled back reluctantly, looking up into soft green eyes. "Michael's waiting. Let's go." He said as he laced his fingers with Dean's and led him to the door. He knew everything would be okay, he just needed patience. Despite how much it felt like he'd known Dean for years, the truth was crueler than that, and he still had a long way to go with the other man. He looked forward to each new day, and he prayed Dean would learn to truly trust him, to open up where it really mattered.


	10. Chapter 10

About an hour later Cas couldn't contain himself any more, he was pacing outside the door to the studio room where Dean and Michael were getting set up. He wanted to see Dean so bad he was ready to burst. As he promised he was staying out of the way as the two got prepared in the university supplied student studio space that Michael had rented out for the afternoon. When they'd gotten there, there had been a literal mob of students begging to watch. Cas had been a little stunned, staring open jawed at the group of fifteen (at least) students that had to be wrangled out of the room. Apparently Dean and Michael were a well known duo, and whenever Michael reserved the studio the rest of the department knew about it and made an event of it trying to get in to watch. Dean had yet to allow anyone, though.

Michael had looked at him funny when he had stuck around after everyone else had been herded out and then tried to shoo him out too with a shake of his head saying "No, no, no. No one's allowed. Dean won't allow this. Definitely not." 

It had taken a lot of convincing for Michael to believe that Dean had actually agreed to letting him stay and watch. Michael still eventually ushered him out into the hall until he said it was okay to come inside. Cas had been waiting nearly fifteen minutes now, anxiously hoping to get inside and being accosted by photography and art students. Cas was honestly starting to get some jealousy issues. 

"Okay. Come inside, but stay over there." Michael final said, waving to a corner of the room where the camera and large white sheets where hanging to make a barrier between the door and the rest of the room. "Dean said he's letting you watch, but only after he's in the zone. So, keep an eye on me and I'll give you a little thumbs up or something to indicate you can peek around or whatever." He said, expression tight. Castiel didn't think he'd seen Michael seem this serious before. He looked down right stressed. 

Agreeing to Michael's conditions, Cas scooted around and tried his best not to peek around the barrier, biting his lip as he saw a pile of clothes in a small suitcase strewn about. He recognized Dean's clothes from earlier in the mess, and he ached to see the other man. He wanted to understand this part of Dean, too; soak it in and absorb the information it would give him. Dean as a model was a hypnotic thought. He half imagined Dean spread out half naked across the top of his shiny black impala in the middle of a summer day, sweat glistening off abs and toned arms...those thick black army boots he liked wearing clunky over tight, tight skinny jeans hugging those firm thighs...maybe one or two of his jean buttons undone (because of course Dean would like wearing pants that didn't have zippers, just to make getting into his pants more difficult). Cas shivered at the thought, practically feeling the summer sun heating his face. Maybe that was just the arousal though. 

Michael gave him a pointed look and moved around the sheets, talking to Dean as he moved over to his camera. "Alright. You think you're ready? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

Dean let out a soft breath, eyes closed as he stretched out his muscles in a languid arch, trying to relax himself. "I'm ready." He said in a soft tone, making it hard for Cas to catch the noise. He strained his ears even more, wondering what Dean was thinking right now, how he prepared. It seemed like he had a process for getting ready. 

"Good." Michael nodded, settling behind his camera. He breathed in deep, bringing the camera to his eye and checking that everything was clean, that the settings were right one last time, and then letting out a deep breath. Silence filled the space for the next ten minutes before Cas heard a pause in the camera's clicks, looked to Michael and got a nod to come around the screen. He hesitated, waiting for Michael to turn back to his work before slipping around the partition carefully, trying not to make big movements, trying to stay quiet. He came up behind Michael before looking to Dean, settling onto the floor next to the camera man in complete silence. The moment his eyes fell on Dean he was trapped, mesmerized. 

Dean was stunning in a pair of tight dark wash jeans, with thick black boots like usual, but a dark green, almost black turtle neck hugging his every curve. The skin tight shirt highlighted the slight curve in of his sides before he flared out again at the hips, and hugged the perfect square strength of his shoulders and well toned arms. Cas swallowed thickly, shifting a little with arousal as he crushed down the ill timed thoughts of how lucky he was to have such an absolutely stunning boyfriend. Dean could honestly make a living selling his body like this, to hungry photographers and salesmen. Dean looked like he was in a bit of a daze, shifting his movements gently every so often as Michael worked, each pose altered a little to create new shadows and lines of body. Cas barely realized he was holding his breath until green eyes fell on him with a slight shift in angle and they were stuck. A shaky breath shuddered from Cas and he watched as that chiseled jaw loosen, tension draining from Dean's features as those full lips parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them in a slow swipe. He watched the way the light shimmered on those dark green eyes as thick, dark lashes brushed down against highlighted cheek bones. Freckles stood out against and blended with the light stubble he had been growing for the past two days. 

Cas didn't even realize what an effect he was having on Dean as he sat there, staring endlessly into that forest of color. Dean's lips quirked slightly into a small smile, and his posture shifted slowly so he was more focused on Cas, eyes intense and dazzling, body opening towards him. Cas jumped when he suddenly felt Michael's hand on his shoulder, jerking away with a wide eyed look. Shit! He really had become a distraction. 

Michael let out a soft laugh, holding out a hand and helping Cas to his feet suddenly, pulling him closer to Dean without warning and settling the visitor in front of the taller man, squinting before moving over to grab a stool and forcing it under Cas so he was sitting in front of Dean. Michael rearranged Dean a little and then hummed in delight.

"Perfect." He said, going back to his camera. 

Cas stared towards Michael in disbelief, uncertainty making him tense and scrunch his face, realizing now why Dean might need complete inner focus to handle that camera lens trained on him so intensely. Dean's calloused, yet soft fingers found the inside skin of Cas' elbow and caressed down along the smooth skin, leaning into Cas' ear and breathing gently into the shell of his ear. "Focus on me, not the camera." 

Cas shivered, feeling the warm press of Dean's chest against his back, the way his broader shoulders shadowed his and framed him. He felt suddenly small, tiny with the strength of Dean standing behind him with a camera on them. He felt exposed. He sucked in an unsteady breath and let it out as he leaned back into Dean, tilting his head slightly so he could glance over his shoulder at Dean. 

Dean smiled softly down at him, planting his hands on Cas' hips and tilting in to press a soft, dry lipped kiss to the side of his jaw, and then again to his temple. Cas almost forgot about the click of the camera with Dean so tenderly holding him. He felt like he was in a dream. Each press of lush, full lips to his skin made a string of tension snap apart. 

Cas let his eyes close slightly, breathing in slow, calming himself as he felt himself melt with Dean. He felt safe with those arms around him, and he soaked it in. He smiled softly, to himself, letting his body move on it's own as he turned towards Dean more. He found himself standing after a moment, moving the stool out of his way without a second thought to it besides wanting the obstacle gone, turning into Dean more and settling his hands on the soft fabric of his shirt, against his heart. Their eyes met again and Cas leaned in without thinking, kissing Dean right there with the soft click of the camera in front of them. He settled a hand gently on Dean's face and pulled him down more to his level, peeling away Dean's layers with the soft dry press of his lips. 

Michael startled them out of their moment with a snap of his fingers right by their faces. Dean jerked, startled and looked at Michael with a chagrinned smile. 

"Well, not quiet what I expected, but I definitely got the shot that I needed." He chuckled. 

Dean brought a hand up to the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, glancing down at Cas who was grinning stupidly to himself. "That went faster than normal…"

Michael shook his head. "Nope, actually about the same. Two and a half hours like always. You were just distracted." He laughed, patting Dean's shoulder and stepping back to go clean up his stuff. "You two are good to go, now. I'm sure Cas is about ready to get you out of those clothes again."

Cas let out an indignant huff, grabbing Dean's hand in his own. "You ready to go?" He asked with star dazzled blue eyes staring up at Dean. 

Dean smiled down at Cas, leaning in and kissing him more passionately than he had a minute before, cupping the side of Cas' face and delving his tongue in deep to leave the other man stunned into silence. When he pulled back, and away, Dean's eyes were a small ring of green around lust blown black. His lips quirked up into a sexy smirk, "Yeah. I'm ready." He said in a low, husky voice. He'd never felt so energized by someone mere presence before. Seeing Cas sitting there after he'd let himself get into the head space he needed for modeling was like a flip had been switched. He wanted nothing more than Castiel in his arms, in his life. It had been like clarity shining through blue skies at him when he'd locked onto Castiel's blue, blue eyes. 

Cas swallowed thickly, grabbing Dean's hand firmly in his and tugging him to the door. "Good." 

Dean laughed gently, smile full force on his lips. Cas barely even let him grab his coat before he was being tugged away. "You got everything before we leave?" He called back to Michael, stopping Cas by the door with a display of power that had Cas spinning around into Dean's arms as he pushed him careful back against the wall besides the door. He lingered close to Cas' lips with a devilish smile as he waited for Michael's go ahead.

"Uhhh…" Michael looked around, scanning everything. "Yeah, yeah. I got everything. I'll bring your clothes back when I pack up. Go have fun. I'll be out until late, like usual." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand Dean didn't even see, or care about. 

Dean's eyes narrowed predatorily when he got the go ahead to leave, leaning in sudden and quick to Cas' ear to nibble the lobe and whisper "Can't wait to get that big-" He startled Cas by suddenly gripping the front of his jeans and squeezing his not so hidden arousal in a firm hand. "-juicy dick in my mouth." Dean taunted before pulling back just as suddenly, holding on only to Cas' now clenching fist. 

Cas let out a low, dangerous growl, narrowing his eyes further and yanking open the door harder than necessary as he dragged Dean along. Running in to a small crowd of students right outside the door made him jerk back and then surge forward again, dragging Dean away from the gawking fan girls. Dean was pretty, yes, and a damn good model, but they had no right to ogle his man. Cas had claimed this man as his from day one, and he wasn't letting any pretty blond or brunette girls with cameras brush up on his boyfriend. His arousal was skyrocketing with his jealousy, and he wanted to just claim claim claim! He would make sure to mark Dean up dark and pretty with love bites and hickeys so that even with a turtle neck or scarf everyone would know. He was a man with a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not hard to guess, but next chapter will probably be just hardcore smut. I'll try to sprinkle in more plot and flesh out some of the mysteries waiting for you guys soon. We'll be seeing some of Dean's past coming back to visit soon, thanks to this scene. Any speculations? Thoughts? Ideas? Comments? What do you like best so far and want to see more of?


	11. Chapter 11

They made it back to Dean's apartment in one piece, and still fully clothed, though Cas had practically been molesting Dean the whole time he drove. There was a growing hickey on his neck, and a few bites along his belly. If the drive had been any longer Dean had no doubt he'd have gotten road head. That would have been something to check off the bucket list for sure...definitely something he'd have to come back to later too. 

They made it inside the apartment in silence, neither one touching the other as if by some unspoken rule they knew once they did they wouldn't be able to stop. Cas stepped inside, past Dean, pulling off his coat and breathing in the earthy scent of Dean and Michael's apartment. He heard Dean lock the door and turned his head to watch Dean shuck his jacket in one smooth, graceful roll of his shoulders. His eyes greedily took in the sight of Dean in all that tight fabric again, shifting uncomfortably on his feet with the increasing tightness in his pants. Blue darted down and made out the hard bulge of Dean's own arousal thick against his thigh, obvious in the tight jeans.

"I didn't know you had…" His eyes darted up to Dean with a smirk pulling up his lips. "...such a tight wardrobe." 

Dean smiled in return, one corner of his lips quirking up. He licked his lips slowly, tucking his hands into the tight pockets of his jeans and stepping forward, right into Cas' space without touching him. Cas could practically feel the world tilting around them, demanding the orbits combine and they fall into each other. The energy in the space between them made goose bumps rise on Cas' arms and he shivered as he tilted his head up that barest of degrees to meet Dean's green green gaze. Cas bit back a moan just thinking of how that tight green turtle neck looked so damn good on Dean, how it made the natural reds and browns and golds in his skin and his eyes pop out like the world was screaming for everyone to realize how earthy and real Dean was. And the red gold shimmer of light catching on the ends of his two day old growth was hypnotizing to follow along that strong jaw and around those lush, lush soft pink lips. 

Cas trembled with the need to touch, with the pure liquid lust dripping from him as he stared at the man in front of him. He didn't even realize how much time had passed, that the smile was gone from his own and Dean's lips. He swallowed thickly, hypnotized by that flecks of gold in Dean's big green eyes, the shadows of his thick, full lashes making every color pop as if he was traced by eyeliner. 

He licked his lips, blinking once and sucking in a deep breath. 

Dean leaned in a little more, not touching, though the electric crackle they both felt charging the air was enough for now. "I didn't think today would end like this…" 

Cas tilted his head just slightly, wavering at the husky tone of that voice, the promise of those words. "Tell me then." 

"When we were together earlier, before the photos…" Dean licked his lips, lowering his gaze to Cas' lips as if steeling himself for the words that often came so difficultly for him. "I was afraid the day would be nothing but dark memories, nervous energy…" He held up his hand as if to cup Cas' cheek but refrained. "I didn't want to relive the memories of my past...didn't want to share myself with you." He closed his eyes and Cas held his breath to wait for what else Dean had to say. "I was scared." He stepped in even closer, barely an inch between them now. "Still am, really; Terrified of what my past holds." 

Cas wavered a little, almost toppling forward into Dean as he saw the raw vulnerability in Dean's gaze. Everything between them in that moment was so open, no walls or barriers between earth and sky. "But seeing you in that studio...I felt grounded, I felt myself breaking apart from the inside…, my walls toppling..." With a suddenness that caused them both to suck in a startled breath, Dean's hand came back up and cupped Cas' cheek, holding it feather light. "Falling…" He whispered so softly it was barely there. "I've always been afraid of flying, Cas. Afraid of going too high and crashing, falling, failing." He leaned in, brought his other hand up to cup Cas' bare cheek. "Being with you feels like flying." 

Cas swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment before drawing in a deep breath and opening his eyes again to look up at Dean, leaning into his hands slightly as he settled his own feather light against Dean's chest, thumbs over his heart. He could feel that electric charge course between them now, cycling between their careful connection. "How?" 

"You're my angel, Castiel." Dean smiled, eyes sparkling with the word. "I'm falling, falling, falling…" Dean closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Cas'. They were silent for a moment, breathing each other in. "You're my angel, Cas." Dean whispered again. "Don't you get it?" He sounded desperate for Cas to understand, to hear the unspoken in his words. 

Cas pulled back slightly, leaning his head away so he could catch Dean's eye again, bringing up one of his hands to cup Dean's cheek in return. "I won't let you crash, Dean." He said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to Dean as light as a ghost. "I'll let my wings burn before you hit the ground." 

Dean smiled so big at Cas that it made his heart flutter. He leaned in and kissed Cas with a passion that burrowed deep into Cas' very being. A kiss Cas would dream of again. "We'll burn together, then." He whispered into Cas mouth, pulling at his bottom lip. "You and I." 

Cas nodded firmly, grabbing on to Dean's hips as the spell was broken on them, gentleness and that unspoken rule not to touch thrown to the wind. "Together." He growled, surging in for Dean's lips.

Teeth clashed as they kissed, passion and pleasure coiling so tight, so quick Cas felt like he was already burning with it. He'd never felt this way before, never felt this intense of a need to lay claim and be one with some one. "Dean." He panted, broken, barely even realizing he'd been led half way across the room already. He ached, he needed, he wanted. 

"I know, Cas." Dean panted into his mouth, turning his attention to Cas' neck as he grabbed Cas suddenly under the thighs and hefted him into his arms, carrying him into his bedroom . "I know, babe." He said again, setting Cas down on the edge of his bed, pushing him over onto his back with firey kisses. His hands smoothed down Cas' chest and then back up, pulling the fabric of his shirt off as he went, pulling away from Cas lips with a triumphant hum. His eyes were blown to a single slim ring of green around black. His eyes took in the sight of Cas laid out beneath him, licking his lips at the feel of Cas' heavy dick pressing against the inner curve of his thighs where he straddled him. Without looking away from Cas' eyes, he popped open the button of Cas' jeans and undid the zipper. The sound of the teeth gliding open made Cas suck in a breath as he saw the fire burning in those eyes. He felt Dean's hands push the fabric of his pants and boxers down and out of the way without him moving from his position straddling Cas' hips. 

Dean's expression lit up when he got Castiel naked beneath him, big strong calloused hands gliding along the most sensitive patches of skin like they knew exactly where every one of his buttons was. Cas shuddered and arched a little, pressing his hips up and grinding just a little to feel Dean's own arousal where it was trapped in his jeans. 

"I want you naked." Cas said in a gravel low voice, clawing his hands down Dean's clad thighs for emphasis. "Now." 

Cas watched the skin pebbled along Dean's exposed flesh as he shivered in delight and stood up on the edge of the mattress, above Cas, staring down at him with a wolfish look in his eyes as he peeled his shirt off slowly, tossing it into the corner without looking. He slowly slid his hands down his own chest, snagging a nipple on the way as he put on a small show for Cas. His lips twitched up into a smug smile as he saw Cas' dick twitch with arousal and a small puddle of pre-cum dripped down it's length. His hands found the edge of his pants slowly, on purpose, and undid each button with an audible pop, licking his lips for emphasis as the golden red trail of his from his naval down was revealed uninterrupted.

Cas gasped, staring in disbelief as Dean shimmied out of his pants to stand completely naked over Cas. "Commando, huh?" He clucked his tongue against his teeth, taking in Dean's full glory from the new angle presented him. His eyes traced down Dean's abs, across that flat stomach and the white and pink gashes of scars to his hips and the prevalent V of muscle that made Cas shiver in understanding of the power behind those hips. His eyes tracked lower to he heavy length that hung full and angry red in a nest of neatly trimmed golden hairs, and then lower still across baby soft hairs that dusted his firm thighs and down his sharp calves. 

"I like the view." He smirked, brushing his fingers along the edges of Dean's ankles and tugging gently to encourage him to come back down. The tiger above him slunk down gracefully, leaning over him so his hands were planted on the mattress besides Cas' head, his nose brushing Cas' nose, as his cock grazed the edge of Cas' own. 

"Good, it's just for you." He smiled, kissing Cas lightly, tracing the edges of his lips with his tongue as he greedily soaked in the wonder that was Cas beneath him. Dean loved that possessive curl of fingers, the dark eyes staring into him, that thick head of hair messed up as if he'd been running his fingers through it for hours when he'd barely even touched it yet. He slid one hand through the thick strands at the thought, delighting in the silky texture and the fullness beneath his palm, he curled his fingers in tight and tilted Cas' head back slightly, baring his throat for his hungry teeth as he nipped down Cas' neck to his collar bone. 

Cas groaned throatily, the thick purr vibrating through Dean's lips and through his body, making his press in closer to Cas, rolling his hips against Cas', his dick gliding along side Cas' own need. They both moaned slightly at the friction, delighting in the barest of reliefs. Castiel brought his hands up and dug into Dean's back with blunt finger tips, curling around his ribs as he felt those sharp teeth tug at his skin. 

"Cas…" Dean purred into the slightly younger man's skin, tilting his head so he could stare up at Cas through thick lashes as he let go of his hair. "I need you." He slide his fingers down the side of Cas' face, down his neck and along his shoulders to his arms and the tips of his fingers. He laced their fingers o f one hand and guided Cas' palm along his own side, to the curve of the hips Castiel had been admiring before, and over the swell of his ass. He held his hand there for a brief moment before leaning up over Cas' lips again, staring down at him with purpose in his eyes. "I want you to do it." He said in a low rumble, curling his and Castiel's fingers so they pressed into the seam of his ass, and brushed just slightly over the puckered opening that Castiel had yet to explore.

Cas let out a low groan, biting at his bottom lip as he stared up at Dean. "Are you sure?"

Dean nodded firmly, letting go of Cas' hand to bring his own back around to lace into Cas' hair again. "I wouldn't ask otherwise." He said with a smirk of his lips. 

That was all Cas needed to hear, groaning as he palmed at Dean's firm, round ass cheeks. He let out a growl, grabbing both of Dean's cheeks in firm hands and hitching a leg around Dean's thighs, twisting and spinning Dean down into the mattress so he was the one leaning over him now with a predatory look, two firm hands spreading Dean's ass cheeks as he used his hips and legs to push open Dean's thighs. The small hitch of breath in Dean's chest and the spread of pink color across Dean's cheeks made Cas bit down hard on his lip, staving off the need to just thrust wildly into the curve of flesh against Dean's hip. Seeing Dean spread for him, allowing him to manhandled him like this was nearly overwhelming. He licked his lips slowly, forcing himself to breath slow, to calm his hammering heart beat. He wanted to just thrust in and claim him right then. 

As if seeing the desperate need in his eyes, Dean drew in a deep breath, propped himself up on his elbows. He leaned up and pressed a firm kiss to Cas lips before leaning back down, twisting a little and reaching for his bedside table, opening the drawer there and pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. Cas' had to bit back a moan at the clear message that painted. If he had any doubts before, he had none now. Dean really wanted him to do this. 

"God, Dean, you're going to be the death of me." He breathed through clenched teeth.

"Hey now." Dean shot him a playful glare. "No dying until you've properly fucked me." 

Cas groaned, surging down for a passionate kiss as he thrust into Dean's hip, unable to help himself. He needed Dean, and he needed him now. He gasped into the heavy kiss when he felt a slick wet hand wrap around both their lengths, pumping once, twice, three times before Dean let go and moved his fingers instead down to fondle Cas' balls. 

"Come on, Cas, I need this...need you." Dean pulled away from Cas' lips, pushing at his shoulders and tilting his head submissively. "Come on…" He spread his legs wider, pressing the bottle of lube into Cas' hand. "Open me up." 

Cas had to force himself back, biting the inside of his lip hard at he narrowed his eyes at Dean, practically glaring he was concentrating so hard. He wasn't some damn hormonal teenage boy, he couldn't just blow his load. This was important, something special, and he wanted to be inside Dean right fucking now it hurt so much. He forced the lid of the lube open, poured a generous amount on his fingers and curled them into the seam of Dean's ass quickly, pressing lightly against that bud he would soon be pressing open. 

Dean shifted a little, licking his lips and catching Cas' eyes. He smiled at the hitch of Cas' eyebrow in question and wiggled his hips playfully. "Lil cold." He commented. "Keep going." His voice was lower than Cas could remember hearing it before, a single thread of tension underlying his words. He could tell Dean was nervous, a little worried about the initial prep, but he could also see the need, the want in his eyes that outweighed his worry. 

"Sorry." Cas murmured, pulling back and rubbing his fingers a little together to warm the liquid up, sliding them back down and pressing the pad of one to Dean's hole. "I'll be careful. Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He said, suddenly nervous himself. He didn't want to hurt Dean. He closed his eyes and pressed, feeling the tension of Dean's body shoot up at the first press of something inside. He settled his free hand on Dean's hip, rubbing a gentle circle into the skin there with his thumb. "Breath for me, Dean, and push out a little. It'll make it a little easier." 

Dean drew in a deep breath, on command, letting it out shakily, some of the tension leaving his body. Cas' finger slid in deeper and Dean breathed in sharply again, before pushing the air out. Cas opened his eyes to slits, looking up at Dean's face to make sure he was okay, seeing the firey determination glared back at him. He turned his gaze down to where his hand was, moving down a little to see better, using his thighs to hitch up Dean's hips a little onto his lap so he could see more, access easier. The slight movement caused Cas' finger to slid in all the way to the knuckle, knocking a small shaky breath from Dean. 

"You okay, Dean?" Cas asked gently, as he continued to sooth his thumb along his hip bone, admiring the sight Dean made.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, just a bit…" He wiggled a little, shifting his hips, causing a small shock of breath to be punched from Dean. "Just a bit...weird, is all." He closed his eyes before opening them again to stare up at Cas with honest vulnerability shining through his eyes. "Only done this once before, and it hurt when they tried to finger me...this...doesn't hurt...just kind of...odd feeling." He closed his eyes again, cheeks painted red with embarrassment at his honesty. 

Cas leaned down a little, hitching up one of Dean's knees to hook over his shoulder. He pressed a tender kiss to the soft skin of his leg and caressed down the firm muscle of his thigh to his hip, and then back up. "I'll do my best to be careful. Let me know if it hurts, if I go too fast." He whispered, a tension in his chest loosening as he realized how much Dean was really trusting him with right then. This was something he was scared of, something that brought up bad memories, but he was letting Cas have the chance to wash those memories away, to see him at his most vulnerable. "I won't let you fall." He whispered the words from earlier into Dean's thigh, twisting his finger gently within Dean's tight channel before pulling it back out, adding more lube and sliding back in again slowly, the going a bit easier this time. 

Dean seemed more relaxed with the careful push and slide in and out. Cas knew that wouldn't be enough though, and so with a focus so intense he almost forgot to keep track of Dean's expressions, he started twisting and turning his finger, pressing and searching until he found that little numb of nerves, jolting when he heard Dean's startled gasp and moan, and felt the thighs around him tremble as Dean reacted. He looked up quickly, seeing the small pool of pre-cum he had caused sliding down Dean's cockhead, and the lust blown look in Dean's eyes when their gaze met again. 

"Do that again." Dean groaned, fingers curled into the fabric of his bed spread.

Cas smiled, pulling his finger out slightly and then pressing in two carefully, twisting until he found that nub again and pressed down hard, watching the jolt race through Dean this time, the twitch of his back arching and his fingers clenching, the startled exhale. 

"Fuck." Dean panted, staring dazed up at the ceiling, shivering at the sensation. "Keep going...god, fuck...want you inside me soon…" He tilted his head, throwing a disarming look down at Cas. He looked so beautiful flushed like that, needy and open. Cas nodded to Dean's words, turning his attention back to Dean's hole. He pressed in and pulled out, twisted and curled and stretched until he got a third finger in and a steady pace going. 

"Cas...Cas, I'm ready...please….come on Cas, gotta have you do it. Need it...need you, babe." Dean moaned at him, a mess of needy nerves. 

Cas pulled his fingers free with a slick pop, putting his condom on and slicking himself up. He drew in a deep breath, barely believing he was actually about to do this. He was about to be inside Dean Winchester. He pressed the head of his cock to Dean's stretched hole, pushed in a little before letting go, planting his hands on Dean's hips instead, using them as leverage to slid into Dean all in one go. Tight, orgasmic heat wrapped around him and pulsed across his sensitive skin, making him moan as he felt the flutter of Dean's body around him. His attention zeroed in on the sensation of being joined to Dean, of being in him at last. It felt like coming home, like perfection. Barely conscious of himself, he waited until he felt the eager pull of Dean's hands on his shoulders and the groan telling him to move before he was hammering in, hips moving with a mind of their own, hands guiding Dean as he thrust in and in and in, bottoming out and slamming home into that bundle of nerves that had Dean practically shouting out his pleasure. It was all too much, and despite how much they both wanted it to last, they'd both been so strung up and so ready to just cum the minute they'd walked in the door that they hardly lasted fifteen minutes with Cas' deliberate thrusts, his punishing smack of hip to hip as he leaned down and devoured Dean's cries of pleasure.

Wrapping his lube slick fingers around Dean's weeping prick, he tugging, leaning into Dean's ear and nibbling his ear lobe as he felt fingers scratching at his back, urging him in harder. "Cum for me, Dean. Come on, I wanna see you cum with my dick up yours ass." He growled, biting at Dean's neck. He felt Dean's muscles tense up, lock, and then he was being dazzled by the look of pure bliss that washed over Dean's expression as hot spurts of cum splattered their bellies and Dean's body tightened and squeezed, milking the orgasm out of Cas as if that was what he was made to do. 

Dean gasped out Cas name as he felt the last few stuttering thrusts inside of him, and then Cas' orgasm was washing over him and he was collapsing into Dean's sweaty, sticky chest. He panted into Dean's neck as he they both came down from the orgasm, completely ignorant to the time, or the mess of their bodies.

Dean shifting drew Cas out of his daze. He sat up suddenly, muttering his apologies as he pulled himself free of Dean's body gently and let the older male unfold himself from the position he'd been hammered into. When he was done pulling the condom off and throwing it away, and wiping off their chests with a used towel from the hamper, he looked to Dean to gauge his reaction to everything. The sleepy, sated look was exactly what he'd hoped to see, and his heart felt lighter knowing just from looking that Dean didn't regret it. 

"You okay?" He asked in a whisper, just to make sure, as he brushed a thumb across Dean's flushed cheek, enjoying the satisfied look that was etched into his features.

"More than okay." Dean smiled back, catching Cas' wrist in his hand and leaning into his palm, kissing it lightly. "I feel like I'm fuckin' floatin on air…" He laughed, pulling Cas down into his arms and curling into him with all the affection of a cat as he burrowed into Cas' shoulder and wrapped himself around Cas' side and legs. "God, you're perfect, Cas." 

Cas flushed, laughing gently at the way Dean was acting, turning into Dean's embrace eagerly. "I'm glad I got some good reviews." He said gently, honestly feeling even better about it all now that he knew Dean had really enjoyed himself. It was his first time, after all. He'd been nervous that he would be sloppy and to impatient, or to harsh with his movements, but Dean seemed to be a boneless heap of contentedness, and Cas soaked it all in with pride. 

"You know, I think I could watch you come like that all day." He teased, raking his blunt nails down Dean's back gently, pressing in deep as he got to the other man's hips.

Dean shivered and moaned into Cas' neck, latching his lips onto the tender flesh and sucking a deep, sudden hickey into the spot. "Thank you, Cas…" He whispered softly when he let go, closing his eyes and feeling post-orgasm sleepiness wash over him. 

Cas smiled, closing is own eyes after kissing Dean softly on the lips. "Thank you, Dean." He offered in return. " Get some sleep…" He brushed his fingers through Dean's hair, wrapping his arms more firmly around the other man and letting his own orgasmic weariness wash over his sated bones. 

Just as Cas was fading from awareness, he heard a soft, whispered murmur of "I think I love you, Cas…" pressed into his shoulder, Dean's fingers curling the slightest bit tighter into Castiel's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't feeling this chapter too much, not sure why. I put my heart into it, though. Just feels like something was missing. I hope yal like it either way! Maybe it's just cause I had a lot of other ideas of how I wanted to write it and it was hard to pick one, you know? Turned out different than I expected. 
> 
> Thoughts?


	12. Chapter 12

Cas shifted in his sleep, echoes of words he wasn't sure were a dream or not repeating in his dreams. I think I love you. He smiled as he curled in closer to the man besides him, soaking in his warmth, his presence. Even if it was just a dream, he knew the real Dean loved him. His thoughts were disrupted as he felt something shifting near him, moving jerkily against the bed and in his arms. He frowned, dragged out of his sleep by a hoarse scream. His eyes jolted open just in time to see Dean sitting bolt up right in bed, panting and covered in sweat, face pale.

"Dean?" He asked hesitantly, reaching for the other male with a careful hand.

Dean jerked, head twisting around to stare down at Cas with a bewildered look on his face, as if he didn't know where he was, who was next to him. Dean scrubbed both hands down his face roughly, haphazardly pulling himself from the covers and rushing to the bathroom. Cas heard the water go on, and the tell tale sound of water splashing. 

Frowning, Cas carefully made his way off the bed, padding over to the bathroom door and pushing it open just slightly. "Dean?" 

Dean stood hunched over the sink, face dripping from where he'd splashed it with cold water. He let out a shaky breath and turned off he faucet, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his eyes for a moment. "Sorry…" He whispered hoarsely, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

Cas stepped forward, gently settling a hand on Dean's bare back, bringing the other up to cup the side of Dean's face, turning him towards him. "No, no...don't apologize." He whispered, stroking his thumb under Dean's eye. "It's okay...it was just a nightmare…" 

Dean shook his head, eyes closed tight as he leaned into Cas' touch. He settled his own hand against Cas' on his cheek, drawing in a shaky breath before opening his eyes, glancing at Cas with a weary smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sorry…" 

Cas frowned at Dean, turning his lover to face him more fully, twisting them around gently so Dean could lean against the counter and he could step in close, ignoring their nakedness as he tiptoed up to kiss Dean gently. "There's nothing to be sorry about…" 

Dean closed his eyes and hung his head, resting it against Cas' shoulder with a shaky sigh. "Not...not just a nightmare, Cas…memories…" He whispered, wrapping his arms around Cas' middle and holding him close. "Awful, stupid memories." 

Cas closed his eyes and steadied himself, breathing in deep to prepare himself for what he might learn. "Do you want to talk about it? You know I'm here for you…" He soothed his hands down Dean's back, across his shoulders and scars. The shiver he got from Dean made him remember their moment the day before, the way Dean had reacted then. Somehow he knew then that that was what this was about. "You're free from them, now, Dean, and I'm hear to protect you now. Okay?"

Dean let out a shaky laugh, hollow sounding as he pressed closer to Castiel's body, trembling faintly. He pressed a shaky kiss to Cas' shoulder and then pulled back, wrapping his fingers in tight with Cas', pulling him away from the bathroom. He let go to pull on a pair of boxers, nodding for Cas to do the same, before leading the other male out into the dark living room. He settled onto the couch and reached for his sketch book, pulling it on to his lap as Cas sat besides him. He flipped through the pages that Cas and the others had seen already, the night of their party. He stopped on one of a face that Castiel had seen but never understood the significance of. It was the face of a man, dark eyes and sinister looking. 

Dean drew in a shaky breath as he looked down at the face he had drawn. "Alistair." He murmured, handing the sketch book over to Cas with shaky hands. He drew his knees up to the edge of the couch and pressed his forehead into the bones of his knees. "And the one on the next page.. Azazel." 

Cas flipped the page cautiously to see the face of another man, with a gash of red across his throat. He looked to Dean uncertainly, oblivious to what these faces meant to him. "Who are they?" He asked cautiously.

Dean closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and stayed quiet for a moment. When he finally did speak, Cas had to strain to hear him, his voice was so rough and raw. "I've never...told anyone about them, no one besides Bobby. Sammy knew, eventually, everything they did...more or less." He scrubbed his hands roughly down his face again, glancing to Castiel out of the corner of his eyes. "Never had to really tell him, never wanted to fill in the details he didn't know. Everything he knew was bad enough as it was." He rubbed his hands down the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly to look at Castiel more fully, though his eyes focused more on the couch besides Cas' hands. 

"Alistair…" Dean cleared his throat, voice breaking a little on the man's name. "Alistair would punish me…" He whispered hoarsely. "When I didn't obey. He would...threaten me with Sam's safety and then drag me down to the basement. He'd…" Dean closed his eyes, hands clenched knuckle white against the couch cushions. "He'd whip me, or beat me, one time he...uh...he fingered me to humiliate me." He said with a watery sort of a smile, blinking away the tears quickly. "He's the reason I have these scars." 

Cas sucked in a sharp breath, closing the book in his lap quickly, setting it on the table in front of them and turning to Dean with a deep set frown on his face. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He didn't know how to make it better. He reached out and took Dean's face, turning it up to face him. "Dean Winchester." He said in a low rumble. "You are truly, utterly, absolutely, the most amazing man I have ever met." He said fiercely, leaning in and kissing him rough. " I mean it." He hissed into Dean's mouth, cupping the sides of his face. "I can't even begin to imagine what they did to you, what you went through..." He pushed Dean down suddenly, onto his back on the couch cushions, leaning over him and shushing him when he made a noise of confusion and protest. 

"Stay still." He begged softly against his lips, peering in to uncertain dark green eyes. "Let me…" He kissed Dean softly when he got a hesitant nod, kissing down his jaw and neck to his chest, hands brushing over his exposed chest. He sat back, looking down at the body of the man he loved. Littered with scars no man should have, Cas set to his mission. He kissed the first scar with dry lips, reverently caressing Dean's sides. He trailed his lips down from scar to scar, kissing each one and baptizing it with his tongue. 

"C-cas…" Dean let out on a shaky breath, laying still as he watched Castiel administer to each of his old wounds.

"You're truly incredible, Dean Winchester." Castiel whispered against a harsh looking wound on Dean's side. "To have gone through so much…" He skipped down to a line of ragged scars on Dean's thigh. "To have survived and still be this generous, loyal, faithful man…" He kissed lowered to a scar across Dean's knee cap. "To be this kind, this trusting…" He rest his forehead against Dean's thigh for a moment before shifting back over the slightly shaky form of his boyfriend. He cupped both of Dean's cheeks and smiled a watery smile down at him. "It's no wonder I love you so much." 

Dean sucked in a startled breath, staring up at Cas in disbelief. He reached up an uncertain hand and cupped Cas' cheek in return. "You mean it?"

"Did you mean it last night?" Cas asked with a playful smile, lips quirked up to one side. 

Dean let out a breathless laugh, nodding up at Castiel. "Yeah...yeah I did." 

"Good." Castiel smiled, leaning down and kissing Dean passionately. "Because I love you too, Dean." He whispered between kissed. "No matter the past, no matter the future...I don't think it's even possible not to love you at this point." He gently caressed Dean's face, cupping his jaw as he kissed him with all his energy. "I love you, truly and honestly. No matter what your past holds. I promise." He whispered, wrapping his arms around Dean's back and settling in on top of him, nuzzling into his neck. 

Dean sniffled lightly, hiding his face in Cas' shoulder, letting a few tears drip silently down his face into Cas' shoulder. He shifted them so they were on their sides, dragging the ever present blanket from the back of the couch over top of them. He nestled in close, arms tight around Cas as he kissed at his forehead and cheeks gently. 

"I don't know how I got so lucky as to have you, but thank you, Cas." He whispered, holding his boyfriend closer. 

"Thank you for trusting me…" Cas murmured back, clinging on tight to the damaged man he had fallen so completely for. "For loving me…" 

"Any time, Cas." Dean said with a soft, watery smile, pressing his lips into Cas' hair gently. "Any time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any spelling mistakes. I wrote this at work, and didn't proof it before posting. Hope you enjoyed. Gave a little slice of back story, gonna have more happening soon!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff, but I'd figure I'd share this bit as I write the next part. Going to have some major plot movement happening next chapter. some character additions and such. Keep an eye out, I'll try to get that up within the next week, if I can. ^_^ Enjoy.

"Time to wake up, dick head." Sam's voice jolted Cas from his sleep just in time to see a pillow flop down on Dean's head, only to be grabbed and thrown back with a grumble from the man buried under layers of comforters and sheets, only the exposed arm and top of his messy sandy brown hair indicating Dean's position underneath. He'd taken to nesting deep beneath the covers at night because of the cold weather and high heating bill. Cas didn't mind, and thought it was adorable the way the other man would cuddle close to his side at night in his sleep and tuck his legs in between Cas' for the extra warmth. 

"Shuddup, five more minutes." Whiskey rough, Dean's voice sent chills down Cas' spine as he sat up and stretched his arms high over his head, glad that they'd been thoughtful enough to go to bed with shirts and boxers on before bed in anticipation of their road trip and the sureness of having unwelcome visitors coming into their room first thing in the morning. 

"You're such a child sometimes, I swear…" Sam smacked the pillow down against the lump that was Dean once more, out of his unseeing reach. "Come on, I've been waiting weeks for this trip. Get your ugly mug outta bed."

Dean made a groaning sound that sound half like a car engine, half like a rusty motor before sitting up and grabbing Sam's wrist, yanking him down to the base of the bed and flipping all the covers he'd been buried in moments before over top of Sam, pinning him down with an audible FLUMP, as he draped himself across Sam's form over top the covers. He let out a triumphant little hum. "You're an ugly mug."

Cas chuckled softly, stretching his way out of bed and rubbing at his eyes. He wasn't normally a morning person, but today it seemed he and Dean had switched wake up routines. Cas was bright eyed and ready to go already, filled with anxious yet excited energy. They had been delayed from going up to visit Dean and Sam's famous Uncle Bobby for Christmas by a big snow storm that swept through the day before they'd been planning to head out. Now that the snow had cleared and it was safer to drive the four of them were ready to head out to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It would be a decently long trip, and Castiel wanted it simultaneously to be over now, and to not be over for a few more days. He was honestly a little afraid of meeting Bobby. Dean and Sam had been talking about him nonstop since the trip was finalized. The stories were both entertaining, emotional, and for Cas pretty damn terrifying. The sheer amount of love that Dean outwardly expressed in his actions and stories and expressions when talking about or too Bobby were what had set Cas off on this train of nerves to begin with. He wanted to make a good impression, and had been thinking and rethinking every thing he had packed, hoping it came off as a casual, confident student, rather than a weird bookworm with no personal boundries and social understanding. He knew he really shouldn't be worried, and Dean had tried to reassure him. Hell, the man had practically adopted Sam and Dean, he had to be used to some crazy, right?

He let out a breath, opening his eyes from where he'd closed them to stand and draw in a calming breath. He turned in time to see Sam flip Dean off of him, onto the floor, only to be dragged down with him as Dean grabbed the covers in revenge.

He let out a full laugh at that, relaxing a little at the foolhardiness of the two brothers. He could tell they were bursting with energy and excitement too. Even though Dean had a fitful sleep, and was still groggy and making grumpy protests at Sam, Castiel knew if he looked into those ever changing green eyes he'd see bright grassy greens and soft golden browns. His gaze would be soft and warm and breathtaking like always.

Eventually Dean conceded to Sam, realizing his mistake in dragging Sam off the bed as well, since he ended up on top of Dean. "Alright, alright. Jesus. Get off of me. I'm up." Sam stood in one fluid motion, grabbing Dean's arm and hauling him up too. Cas shivered at the display of agility and strength, the ease of the actions, the easy way Dean settled to his feet besides him brother. They were like fine tuned machines of movement and muscles, and Castiel was trying not to be jealous of the good genes the two shared. Hell, he'd had a whole conversation with Jessica about this just the other week before the snow hit. Cas was confident enough to know he had his redeeming assets, and he wasn't fat or overly skinny. He had a nice lean runners body, and plenty of stamina. His lips quirked up as his eyes filtered over with memories, eyes trailing absent mindedly down Dean's covered back and to his ass. He bit his bottom lip hard as he wavered back into reality to catch Sam eying him with a pointed look of amused disgust.

"Is Michael awake as well?" Cas ventured as Dean bent over to scoop up the comforter and sheets he'd just messed up so completely. Cas had to stifle a small moan behind a cough as he caught his eyes following the movement, getting lost in the way the muscles on Dean's legs moved as he bent over and stood back up. Shit. Cas was going to need to do something about this sexual tension that was running full throttle through him this morning before they got in the car, or he honestly might end up giving Dean road head with Sam and Michael in the back seat.

"He was pit stop number one." Sam said with a roll of his eyes, heading to the door way. "45 mins for shower and…" He paused, glancing to Cas as Dean looked up questioningly at the longer than expected allotted time. "Well, … that." He nodded over to Cas, smiled at his brother, and turned to leave the room with an obvious show of shutting the door.

Dean turned his head from where he was tucking the sheets back in to look over at Cas and audible gulped, seeing the early morning light catch in Cas' eyes and make them dark and fierce.

"Cas?" He asked in that low, rumbly voice that drove Cas nuts, the morning gruff still hanging on, complimenting his mussy appearance. One side of his hair was sticking up just a little more than the other, little red crinkles pressed into one of his arms where it had been pressed beneath Castiel most of the night. His cheeks and jaw were covered in morning stubble and Cas couldn't really be expected to not want to just imitate the brotherly wrestling from before and tackle Dean.

Instead he stripped his shirt off, dropped his boxers and turned towards the bathroom door with a playful smile and the faint flush of pink that caught on Dean's cheeks at the sight. He always did blush much easier when he was still half asleep. He stopped by the bathroom door, crooked a finger in the classic come hither motion and purred out. "You coming?"

When the emerged from the shower, and eventually their recently increasingly combined bedroom, which was in fact just Dean's room, they were clean, sated, and ready to face the day. Cas felt relaxed throughout his muscles, wondering if he'd be able to catch some sleep on the ride there, hoping so, but also knowing Dean would probably annoy the snot out of him if he really did. After all, Dean was driving. The impala was the only functioning car big enough to fit all four of them at the moment.

Sam and Michael said nothing about the extra time, used to them by now more than likely. They weren't loud, so there wasn't anything to complain about. Well, not loud when they knew the others were around anyways. Dean really did have a knack for shutting off his voice if he needed, and taking in with the best little panting mewls and moans that had worked their way into Cas' dreams of late and made his skin crawl to touch, to unravel Dean more, to keep slipping past those layers he'd built around himself. Every time was like a new discovery, and Castiel was loving it. They had a good system going, give and take, learn and explore. Dean was a passionate, tender lover, and it melted Cas right into the mattress every time Dean laid him out and palmed and mouthed his way across his form. He liked taking his time, making Cas come undone with his tongue and mouth, saying some of the most filthy things Cas had heard. And it all just made his blood boil for more. Loving Dean was like an addiction, and the physical intimacy was the demonstration and the drug.

After sitting down to eat the breakfast Michael had prepared for them, they did a final sweep of the apartment for necessary item, made sure the breakfast dishes were done, turned off every light and unnecessary power supply and loaded in to the car. Sam only pestered Cas a little about how he was sitting in the back. Dean had declared before they'd done any packing that Cas was getting shotgun on the drive up. It was like a right of passage, and Michael grumped softly under his breath that he only ever got shotgun when they did grocery runs. Which wasn't very often.

"Maybe you should have tried harder to get in my good graces before the trip." Dean snarked back with a smug smirk, winking at Cas as he pulled out of his spot and onto the main road.

"Maybe I shouldn't have, cause it was a lost cause anyways since Cas is your BOYFRIEND." Michael said, thumping the back of Dean's seat with his knees, only to get Sam's hand smacking at him for roughing up the interior of the car.

"Careful with the car." Sam drawled, shooting out a text with his other hand, not even looking up. "Or you won't even get shotgun on grocery runs anymore."

Dean let out a small snort of a laugh, nodding as he pulled on to the highway, relaxing in to the drive. Cas tilted his head, mentally calculating how many times he'd been in the car with Dean and Sam before. The small amount of times he was, Sam got shotgun, without even a thought, but it was for shorter trips. The way the two brother's treated the car was special. Intense.

"Hey Sam, Dean…" He settled his fingers into Dean's on the driver's thigh, enjoying the warmth radiating from there as his fingers curled firmly into place with the other man. "What's her story?" He asked, gently brushing a hand over the car's dash for emphasis on what he was talking about.

"Dean?" Sam ceded, smiling airily. Cas turned to look at Dean, seeing the same kind of airy look in Dean's eyes. Memories practically reflected there, like a shimmer.

"Baby's been our home for a long time." Dean said with a more focused smile, glancing at Cas quickly before focusing back on the road. "We grew up in here."

"She's always been our own personal little sanctuary." Sam input from the back seat. "Safe."

"Most of the time." Dean muttered, before his lips twisted up again. "Dad bought the car when he got engaged to mom. When the house burned down, it was the only home we had left. Dad was always on the road with us, driving around the country, stopping motel to motel, finding odd jobs and dropping us off at shitty motels. Being in the impala was a relief. No monster could get us in here. We both learned how to drive in her, had out first kisses in her, first lot of things." He shook his head a thought he didn't share before continuing again. "I've always loved this car, and I take care of her. She might contain some of the only good memories I have left of Dad."

Sam sighed at that. "Yeah, he was always calm when he was in here. I mean, he was always strict about keeping her clean and not letting us destroy her, but that was more military dad mode than anything. He was centered, focused when he was driving." He said, getting a nod from Dean. "Give him a full tank and he wouldn't get mad, wouldn't be researching or working shitty jobs, or whatever else. Wouldn't be getting in trouble." He shrugged. "The Impala's always kinda just, been there for us. Home."

Cas studied the two brothers in silence for a moment, smiling gently. "Well in that case." He turned to the front of the car again and pat the dash board a few times. "Thanks for taking care of my Winchesters." He acknowledged with head bowed. "And for letting me make more good memories with them." He quirked his lips up at his own thank you to the car, hoping the good vibes and safe energy coursing through her metal bones would keep them safe on the long drive. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like, moving around so much, but he could understand it in Dean a little more now. His deep affection to the car, the way he'd spend a minute or two longer inside if he was stressed, or just needed a break. He understood now why Dean had needed that road trip those months back, and he could understand the boy's affection to the inanimate object. Home. What a weird concept to apply to a car, but Cas liked it. It felt right. He'd never had much of a stable home experience himself with his weird family, but he was silently thankful he'd had a permanent location to always come home to. If that was the impala for Sam and Dean than he could understand it completely. He liked the ring of the word home, sitting side by side with Dean with his friends in the back seat. It was calming.

Dean beamed at Cas' mini speech to the car, patting the dash beyond the steering wheel briefly with a goofy grin, his eyes sparkling a lovely shade of teal-ish green as it reflected the blue of the sky through the window. "Hear that, baby? Cas loves you too." Cas sighed softly, nibbling the inside of his cheek as he watched the sun dance across Dean's face as they drove, the trees creating patterns with their shadows as they stretched into the car. 

Michael rolled his eyes but smiled as he tucked himself into the back seat. "I guess she's a pretty great car." He said, straightening out his ear phone cables. "You know, considering she's forty something."

Dean flipped Michael the finger over the back of the seat. "Dick, she's a classy lady. Forty is so not old."

Michael just shook his head, knowing it was a losing battle he fought. "Whatever you say, Dean."

Dean huffed, letting Michael put in his ear buds before getting Cas to hand him one of his cassettes and popping it into the player. Settling in to the drive, Castiel couldn't help but admire the steady arm on the steering wheel, the ease that Dean drove the car like it was built into his bones. He really did know this car like a lover; it was obvious in his every move around the car. Even packing everything he'd been particular and fidgety about how things were settled into the back of the car. Snuggling up a little more in his heavy pea coat, Cas smiled and squeezed Dean's hand gently as he settled in the growing warmth in the car, and the hum of her engine. He was eager now, with the purr beneath his feet, to see his lover's home, his family. He was still anxious, probably would be until he actually met the man, but he was eager, too. He'd do it hand in hand with the other man.


	14. Chapter 14

"Bobby, Cas. Cas, Bobby." Dean said with a big smile as he stood on the porch to the older farm style house. The man in front of Castiel was short, with greying hair and an old cap on his head. He had a face that looked like it was permanently frowning, but his lips were twitched up into a semi-smile that Castiel could see made Dean beam.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Castiel held out his hand formally, startled to be yanked into a rough, quick hug by the older man.

"Nonna that now, you're practically family. Come inside." Bobby huffed, turning to lead them into the old house. "Got dinner in the oven already. Should be done in a half hour." Instantly Castiel was swept away, not because it was clean or fancy or anything, but because somehow he could imagine Sam and Dean finding peace in these walls, growing together and getting in to trouble. A soft smile curled his lips as he watched Dean relax into the atmosphere of the home, anxiety lost into the air. Castiel looked around in interest at the piles of books, the slight mess of a man who was always learning, studying, doing something. He could imagine Sam sitting in a pile of books as Dean hovered off in some corner, doing something with his hands. He startled when he turned into the kitchen though and saw several guns strewn across the table.

Dean squeezed his hand lightly, nodding for him to come on in. "What, never seen a gun before?"

Cas frowned slightly, taken aback. "No. Not in person anyways."

"Huh." Bobby raised a brow at Dean and Castiel instantly looked to his boyfriend to see what the look was about. Dean flushed slightly under the notice, rubbing at his neck with his friend hand.

"What?" Castiel asked, hesitant.

"Uh, It's just I was kinda raised around guns." Dean said, waving at the table, glancing to Bobby at the others scrutiny. "Kinda forgot I'd never told you."

"Surprised the kids not been woken up from lumps in his pilla." Bobby huffed.

Castiel's eyes widened, looking at Dean again questioningly. "You have a gun?" He didn't know why it startled him, he knew Dean had an array of pocket knives. It was just the out of the blue suddenness of the reveal that stuck with him. Plus, the thought of a gun being in the same bed they shared startled him.

Dean's face flushed in embarrassment. "Well...yeah. Few of uhm." He shrugged, glad for the distraction of Sam and Michael coming in to the room. Castiel didn't let him sneak away from the subject though, tugging him over to the side of the room as the other two started up talking with Bobby animatedly. This was Micheal's first time at the place, but not his first time meeting the older man. They were instantly regaling the snowstorm that had delayed them, animatedly discussing how awful it had been trying to get groceries.

"Dean." Castiel pushed him away slightly and into the door jamb with subtle force, making the other man look at him with a nervous bite of his lower lip. "You coulda told me." He said, seeing the uncertain furrow of Dean's brows, the way his eyes ducked down and away as he bit at the inside of his cheek uncertainly. Cas was suddenly very aware of just how nervous Dean was, something he usually hid a bit better than this. Usually he only got like this about sensitive subjects, especially ones about his past. "Is this because of what happened in the past?" He got a subtle nod, confirming Cas' worries. "I'm not mad."

Dean finally looked up at his boyfriend, giving him a look that ached as evergreen eyes peeked at him. "I didn't want to freak you out with it. Didn't really think about it, even...just...you know, a lot of people think it's weird." He said with a little huff, eyes watching the others over Cas' shoulder cautiously before looking back to his boyfriend's hands on his chest, lightly pressing to keep him in place. Cas didn't mean to be forceful with Dean like this, but he knew Dean'd just avoid the whole thing if he let go. He gently soothed his fingers against the muscle beneath his fingers to ease the older male a little.

"Are there guns under your pillows?" Cas asked cautiously, gauging Dean's every facial twitch. He wanted honesty. It wasn't a big deal, and he didn't want to make it one, but he was a little unsettled at the prospect of a deadly weapon hidden by his head at night.

"Our pillows." Dean corrected, seeing the slightly withering look Cas threw at him and huffing out a little breath of a laugh.

"No." He glanced away, dragging his teeth over his lip piercing. "Not a gun."

"Something else?" He raised a brow at Dean's answer.

"Well…" Dean let out a sigh, deflating a bit as he brushed his thumb lightly over Cas' hip and the slight sliver of skin that was exposed between shirt and jeans. "Yeah. Gun's under the mattress. Knife under the pillow." He shrugged a little, eyes on Cas' chest.

"Why?" He asked softly. Seeing Dean's face twist with a sudden overwhelming amount of emotion, Castiel breathed out heavily, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Dean's lips softly. "We'll talk about it later." He offered, sliding his hands down Dean's ribs to his hips, stepping back a little ways and tugging Dean gently with him. "I've got an important man to meet." He smiled reassuringly at Dean.

Dean's face cleared of that look that always hollowed Cas out a little, softening as his eyes darted to the man mentioned, catching Bobby's eye from where he was leaning against the counter, chatting easily with Sam. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Dean. I didn't mean to make it a big thing. Just took me by surprise." He slid his fingers back in to Dean's and pulled him into the center of the kitchen, leading him to the others. Dean followed obediently, smiling hesitantly at Bobby's questioning gaze, shaking his head.

"So, Cas." Bobby gruffed. "You been being good for my boyo, here?"

Castiel suddenly felt on the spot, startled by the direct, kind of startling change in atmosphere. Dean couldn't help but let out a startled sounding laugh of amusement. "Hey now, none of that." He admonished with a shake of his head. "He's a good one." He squeezed his boyfriends hand gently, his thumb starting up a steady back and forth sweep against his skin.

Sam smiled, elbowing Cas in the ribs lightly. "Yeah, I've already cleared him." He teased, ruffling Cas' hair. Bobby raised a brow, letting out a huff.

"Aight. If yal say so."

"We do." Dean said with a roll of his eyes.

They talked for a while after that, getting a small snack before unloading the ca r and dividing up the rooms. Cas eagerly followed Dean to their room for the evening, soaking in everything he saw, and yearning to see the room Dean's lived in for so long. It was tiny, hardly big enough for the two of them. It was at the end of the hall past a bigger bedroom (that Sam and Michael were going to share since there was room for two beds in there and Bobby'd set up a cot bed for Michael to crash on) and the bathroom for the floor. He raised a brow, taking in the slope of the roof that indicated it was the corner most room. On the ceiling were a few old band posters that highlighted the same music Dean listened to now. There was a decent sized bed taking up most of the room against the wall at the bottom of the roof slope, and a small desk and chair tucked at it's end. A small closet took up the opposite wall, featuring a few old box s tucked away with Dean's initials sprawled across them, and an old leather jacket hanging in the shadows.

Dean cleared his throat, setting their bags down by the desk and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up at Castiel with a hesitant smile. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" His eyes twinkled, taking in the sight of Castiel in this important place filled with memories. It was even better than that first night bringing Cas into his bedroom back at the apartment. This place was a haven for him, the closest thing besides the impala he had to a long term home.

Castiel nodded, smiling brightly at Dean. "I like learning more about you." He said as he walked over, standing in front of Dean and carding his fingers through the man's hair with both hands. He enjoyed the way Dean's head moved with his caress, giving in to his touch with a soft blissful look on his features. "I like Bobby." He said, knowing it would please Dean. He felt warm and content to be here with Dean, to see his open easiness beneath his fingers.

Dean laughed softly, settling his fingers on Cas' hips, brushing his thumbs over the curve of his bones, tucking them into his belt loops. "Good." He said, relief evident in his features. "Don't know if I coulda kept yah if you didn't."

Cas pouted down at Dean playfully, moving a bit forward and setting his knees on the bed on either side of Dean's broad hips, sitting on the man's lap now as he stared into hypnotic emerald eyes. "Hey now." He huffed, brushing his fingers over the edges of his cheeks. "That wouldn't be very nice."

Dean chuckled, nosing at Cas' palm lightly to tease. "You know I'm kidding." He kissed the soft skin on the side of Cas' palm. "Besides, I'd never fall in love with anyone who couldn't handle Bobby." He laughed softly to himself, thinking how true that was. "He's a grumpy old teddy bear of a man."

Castiel loved seeing the ease across Dean's features, brow softened, eyes drooping a little from the gentle caresses Cas was administering. He loved the way emerald shifted to soft forrest green and peered up at him through dark golden brown lashes. He loved the heat of Dean beneath him, the strength under gentle features. He'd seen it himself, how much Dean had been relaxing, opening up lately. He seemed to be easing into himself more and more. Even Michael and mentioned it to him. He liked to think it was partly because of him, because they were together and happy and Dean had someone to open up to now.

"I'm glad you like him." Dean said earnestly. "Sorry he kept teasing and bugging you earlier."

It was Cas' turn to laugh gently, shaking his head as he gave Dean an eskimo kiss. "It's his job." He shrugged, tracing his fingers down Dean's throat to his shoulders. "He's protective of you." He said with a slight tilt of his head. "He…" He bit his lip before posing the next bit as a question. "He knows everything you've been through?"

Dean nodded slowly, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist and moving them both to the head of the bed so he could lean back against the wall with Castiel still posed on his lap. "Yeah…" He brushed his palms lightly down Cas’s sides, resting them gently on his thighs as he watched Castiel above him. 

"He has a right to screen your suitors, then." Cas pointed out with a quirk of his eye brow down at Dean. "I'd be the same." He pointed out, fingers idly running over Dean's chest as the others fingers brushed along his thighs."He loves you, wants you to be happy. I'd have been disappointed if he hadn't tried to question me."

Dean's eyes lowered slightly, tracing the path of one of his hands as it came up to run down the side of his neck. "We put him through a lot…" He offered in a slow breath. "He didn't have to take us in, by the time we finally got here I was already 18. He helped Sam finish high school, helped me get my GED, helped me…" He trailed off for a moment, fingers stilling slightly. 

Castiel kept his touches light, soothing his hands over Dean's shoulders in silent encouragement. Dean hadn't offered up a lot of his history lately, telling Castiel he was more interested in making new memories, more interested in embracing the peace and happiness of now. He'd hardly offered up much major detail since he'd told Cas about Alastair and Azazel, and even then he’d barely said a thing to him about them. 

"I brought a whole world of crap down on him, and he just took us under his wing saying he was here for us." Dean closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as he breathed through the memories. "I was a wreck back then, but he never gave up on me. Pulled me back from the edge a few times." He admitted, opening his eyes to slits before glancing up at Castiel through his lashes. "Sam and I had been on the run for about a year before we came here...knew that they'd find us otherwise...we hid, we struggled to make it through, and then we finally came here, found safety. Sam was so happy." He smiled at the memory of the day Sam realized they weren't running or moving any more, that they would really be safe here. His smile slipped and Castiel's heart instantly clenched up seeing the haunting ghost of the past darken Dean's eyes. 

"I tried to kill myself." 

His confession instantly chilled Castiel, hair raising across his arms and the back of his neck as he stared at Dean, fingers unconsciously stilling. 

"When Sam was finally safe, settled...happy here. I just wanted to escape the memories of back then...the pain, the nightmares, the guilt..." Dean closed his eyes again, voice a weak waver. "One night, Bobby found me with a gun in my mouth." Castiel's fingers turned to deadly grips around Dean's shoulders, sharp pain twisting his heart as he was revealed the pain of Dean's past. He didn't know what to say, how to respond to the confession.

"The look on his face still haunts me. To think I almost failed him by giving in..." Dean frowned, remembering the look of horror on Bobby's face, the way the man's fingers shook as he took the gun away from him, the way he’d had tears prickling his eyes as he tried to talk Dean down from the edge. "After everything he'd done for me I'd felt like I'd failed him for even thinking about escaping the memories of it, but he just took me in his arms and told me it would be okay. That he'd help me through it." He looked up at Cas again with soft eyes. "And he did. Saved my life more than once." He whispered, reaching up and wiping away a tear from Cas' cheek he hadn't realized was there. "I owe him so much more than I can ever repay him for."

Castiel sucked in a shaky breath. "I need to thank him." He whispered. "He let me have you."

Dean quirked his lips up softly. "He did." He affirmed, leaning forward and kissing Castiel gently on the lips. "I'm glad you like him, Cas."

Castiel let out a startled laugh, burying his face in Dean's neck and pressing his slightly wet face to Dean's warm skin. "If I didn't before, I do now." He shook his head, wrapping his arms around Dean's chest, pressing into him fully as he felt calloused fingers brush through his hair. They settled together on the bed like that, softly talking about Dean's memories in this room, mostly the lighter hearted ones. Dean told him about how he'd started his first journal sitting right where they were. He'd come home with his first piercing here. At some point Dean got up to pull one of the old boxes out of the closet and opened it, bringing out a small stack of journals and sketchbooks, skimming through them with Cas settled in his lap. Dean avoided large chunks of some, but showed Cas a lot of his sketches, avoiding any pages with text on them. Cas was shown years worth of sketches, of practicing how to draw, how to design, how Dean learned to be free. 

They fell asleep like that, an old sketch book open on Cas' lap to a sketch of Sammy on the front porch. Sam found them like that, half tucked into the covers the next morning, Cas curled into Dean's arms completely. He snapped a picture with his phone and let them sleep. Carefully moving the books to the edge of the bed so they’d be a bit more comfortable, he smiled at the soft look on Dean’s face, and the sketch he remembered Dean drawing years ago. Heading downstairs, Sam smiled good morning to Bobby at the kitchen table.

"Morning, kid. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Got a pic for yah." He said pulling out his phone and showing Bobby the picture of Dean and Cas on the bed surrounded by books. 

Bobby quirked an eyebrow with a smile. "So Dean's smitten, huh." He got a nod, and huffed a little laugh before shaking his head. He’d seen it himself the night before, the way Dean and Cas seemed to orbit each other, two forces unable to stay away from the other. "Has Dean told him about everything?"

Sam sat down across from the older man after getting a cup of coffee and cereal. He poured his bowl and thumbed the cap off the milk. "Not everything. Not yet. But he told me he's mentioned them to him before." Sam revealed, his tone heavy at the thought. He knew it was a topic that was going to be coming up more and more in the future, and it unsettled him. He didn’t like the memories of what happened to them in the past. "Told him about the whip scars." He especially didn’t like the reminded of how much Dean had been hurt. 

Bobby let out a huff of breath, taking a bite of cereal and chewing. "He's letting that boy look through his books, too."

"Yeah." Sam said with a soft smile. "Almost makes me jealous."

"Heh." Bobby gave Sam a pointed look.

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what the other man was thinking. "Can't help if I'm a little curious...I know it's not all bad stuff in there. It's just…" He glanced towards the door and the stairs. "I don't know. I hate him having so much hidden from me...and I've just got a bad feeling, Bobby. Not about Cas, but about...about Alastair."

"It's been near six years now, son." Bobby said with a rough edge to his voice, not dismissing his adopted son's concerns, but trying to be realistic. 

"Yeah but…" He pushed around his own cereal, not finishing it. He’d lost his appetite all of the sudden. "I don't know, Bobby." He rubbed at his face. "Gut feeling." He offered, scratching at one of his thighs anxiously as he looked across at the other man. "Alastair was obsessed with him."

"I'd think he'd have given up by now, Sam."

Sam frowned deeper, face twisting with sudden anger. He leaned across the table, hissing in a low voice. "I should have killed him. For what he did to Dean. For what he put us through."

Bobby didn’t even flinch or recoil. He just took another bite of his cereal and responded. "Murder is a heavy burden, Sam. I'd have thought you'd understand that." He said in a sharp clip, keeping his voice low, too. "You saw how it affected Dean. Even if it is the bad guy, the monster. Taking a life aint easy, boy. It haunts. It torments."

Sam shook with frustration, looking down at his abandoned food angrily. His hands shook and he pushed them into his lap to stop from making any mess, to hide their movement. "He molested him, Bobby." He choked out, voice raw as he looked to his father figure. "Told me back at Halloween. That bastard practically ra-" His voice closed up and he looked away again, down at his tense fingers in his lap. "I don't know why, but I just...I have this feeling, deep in my guy." He fisted a hand against his chest and pressed against the ache there. "I don't think Alastair gave up looking for him willingly. I know it doesn't do to dwell on the past, but something feels wrong. There this part of me that just...I know as long as he's out there he's still a threat and that terrifies me. Dean's making a life for himself and I want him to be happy. I really do. I want him and Cas to find peace together." He let out a deflated huff of breath. “I’m scared, Bobby.” 

Bobby sighed, rubbing at his eyes as bags of exhaustion darkened his face. "Aint no way we can know what the bastards doing out there. But we gotta hope and pray he's dead, or in prison. Only thing we can do is watch out for him. Keep your head up, call me if you think anythings up."

Sam nodded, staring at his unfinished bowl. He didn’t like losing his cool like this, of being weary and afraid. It’s only happened recently that he’d been getting small chills. He knew it wasn’t Cas, and nothing else major had happened to them lately. He was probably just paranoid. Even if it had been years since they’d gotten away, that kind of past would always find a way to rear it’s ugly head. “Yeah..” He rubbed at his thigh slightly. “Sorry for…” He waved his hand slightly between them, offering Bobby a chagrinned smile. 

“You never gotta apologize for being worried.” Bobby said with a small role of his eyes, standing up and moving to clear both their bowls. He looked up to the sound of someone coming into the room, seeing Dean’s sleepy eyed face shuffle through the door. 

“Whatchyal talkin’ about?” He slurred in a sleeply tone, moving over to get himself some coffee, raising a brow at the other two men. 

“Nothing worth regaling.” Bobby offered, rinsing out the bowls. “Cas coming down?”

Dean shrugged, pouring his coffee as a yawn caught him. “Probably not for a good bit. Stayed up late talking.”

“What’re you doing up then?” Sam asked, not surprised by his brother’s early morning, but not expecting him to have abandoned the warmth of Castiel’s sleeping side. 

“Woke up, didn’t think I’d be able to get back to bed. Figured I’d work on Baby a bit before Cas gets up.” He plodded over and took the seat next to Sam, stretching out his legs with a bit of a groan. He was sore all over from having fallen asleep in the position he had, without moving all night. 

“Mhm. Yeah, you didn’t really get much time to last time we were here. Cold’s probably been rough on her.” Sam nodded, knowing Dean liked to spend a good days worth checking on the Impala and tuning her up. 

“Yeah. She was driving a bit stiff on the last leg up here, but I think I know what’s got her down. Need to wash all that salt outta her, too, before she gets clogged with all the muck.” Dean shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long before he’d eaten, finished his coffee, and poured himself another cup into a thermos to take with him outside. 

“If Cas is up before I come in for lunch, just let him know I’m out in the garage.” He said as he stretched, capping his second cup of coffee. “Don’t bug the poor kid.” He pointed a finger between the two others in the room before heading outside. 

It was nearing lunch time that Cas got up, groggily stretching and remembering vaguely Dean getting out of bed earlier and telling him to get some more sleep. He looked at the clock and groaned, realizing it was already 11:30 and he’d slept through half the day. They’d stayed up so late talking though, that it felt like he’d barely slept at all. He forced himself out of bed, got dressed, and padded downstairs with sleep still hanging on to him begging him to curl back into bed. The rational side of his mind told him he just needed some coffee and a good morning kiss and he’d be able to get going and do whatever Dean had planned for the day. He made his way into the kitchen, spotting Sam and Bobby in the adjoining living room, whose doors were pushed open, reading at a desk together. Michael was Slouched across the couch, laptop open on his stomach, headphones in his ears, having fallen asleep working on whatever it was he’d been working on. 

Sam smiled warmly at the other man, waving at him. “Hey, grab some coffee, should still be warm from Michael’s batch.” Cas nodded dumbly, going over and pouring himself a cup of the still decently warm liquid. He was glad Sam knew how much he needed coffee in the mornings. “We’re gonna be making lunch in a little bit if you think you can hold off on food.” 

Cas nodded, yawning into his hand as he looked around. “Where’s Dean?” He asked as he padded over to the living room section. He settled onto the edge of a chair as he sipped at his coffee, curious as to what his lover was up to and why he wasn’t there to greet him. He was also greatly fascinated by the stacks on stacks of book that littered the room. It was like a mini-heaven in here. If Dean was busy he’d feel perfectly content burying himself in a book or two for the evening. 

“He’s out working on the impala, giving her a tune up.” Sam said from where he was jotting a note down and showing Bobby. 

Cas raised a brow. “Isn’t it cold out there?”

“Bobby’s got a whole mechanics garage out there.” Sam smiled, sensing Cas’ concern. “Heaters and lights galore.” He said with a wave of his hand. “You could go out and see him if you want, let him know lunch will be soon. He told us to let you know what he was up to when you came down.” 

Cas let out a hum. “Might as well.” He said with a soft smile, imagining Dean working on his beloved car. He loved watching Dean do things he loved doing, there was a peace around the other man, a calmness that permeated him completely. He finished off his coffee and upon Sam’s recommendation poured the rest into a cup to bring out to Dean. He warmed it up just a little bit more, and then head out after shrugging on his coat and shoes. 

He followed Sam’s instructions to find his way to the back, spotting the large garage/shed easily and padding over to the door besides the car door. He pushed it open silently, instantly surprised by the warmth of the inner area, spotting a handful of heaters surrounding the perimeter, Dean’s sleek black impala sitting in the middle of the ring of lights and warmth. It took a moment for Cas to spot Dean, tucked under the car tinkering with something. 

“Booooooyfrieeeend.” He coed softly, walking closer to Dean’s side and squatting down besides his legs, peeking under the car. “Hello boyfriend.” He smiled when he caught Dean’s green gaze beneath the car. 

Dean’s face lit up in a smile and he huffed out a soft laugh. “Good morning, angel.” He purred back in a gentle rumble, tightening up whatever he was working on and then sliding himself out from under the car on the rolly cart he lay across. “Morning kiss?” He asked, wiping greasy hands into a rag he had tucked into his work suit. 

Castiel grinned big, feeling instantly more awake at the sight of those beautiful mossy green eyes and that freckled face with it’s beautiful smile. “Of course.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to Deans hotly, devouring his soft groan of appreciation before pulling back and holding out the cup of coffee. “A gift, for you.” 

Dean let out a moan of appreciation, taking the cup and sipping at it twice before letting out a dreamy sound. “That’s some good stuff.” He said with a soft smirk, holding it back up to Cas for a moment as he stood up and went over to the sink that was against one wall. He scrubbed at his hands in a quick efficient manner to remove all the grease he could and then turned to Cas again. “Sleep well?” He wiggled his fingers to indicate Cas should come closer, and smiled when he obliged, sliding in close to Dean without pressing into him fully, aware of the grease on his blue jumper. He set the coffee down on the ledge of the sink and leaned up to kiss Dean softly as his fingers reached up to brush through his short hair. 

“Mhm.” He purred, getting caught up in the feel of Dean’s hands holding on to his hips, thumb brushing in the reassuring way across his skin where it’d tucked up under Cas’ coat and shirt. 

“Good.” Dean purred into the kiss, nibbling Cas’ bottom lip teasingly. 

“Sam says they’re making lunch soon.” Cas breathed into their kiss, wanting to just lean his whole being into Dean, but knowing his clothes would get messy. He hated having even a little distance between them. “You’re dirty.” He groaned, feeling Dean’s own desire for them to be closer. His eyes glanced between their bodies to the space he created between them and pouted as he leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “Come inside?” 

Dean nodded. “Soon.” He said with another quick kiss. “Just wanna give Baby a quick wash.” He said, nudging Cas over so he could move into the workspace again. He kissed Cas’ cheek and grabbed the cup of coffee from the sink, downing half of it before settling it back down. “You just wake up?” He asked as he head over to grab hose from the other side of the room, pulling it out to get closer to the car. He then went to grab a bucket, filling it with water and cleanser. 

“Mmm.” Cas hummed in affirmative. “Was half tempted to just sleep all day, but it’s weird not sleeping next to you now.” He said with a shy flush to his cheeks. 

Dean grinned over to the other man as he went about prepping the car for to be washed. “To be fair, you’ve practically moved in with me.” He pointed out, raising a brow at the other man. “I was actually meaning to talk to you about that…” Cas’ heart sped up, a thrill filling his bones. “I know we’re both already in a lease for the rest of this school year, but I was thinking…” He glanced towards Cas, his features soft, shy almost, hesitant yet determined. “You know, maybe after this semester we could try...I don’t know...maybe living together…” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing, but he knew it meant the world to Dean right now. 

“Absolutely.” He said without hesitation, giving Dean a firm nod. His heart lit up to see the big smile that curled up Dean’s lips and the pleased look in his eyes. He wanted to just tackle Dean right there and half affirming sex with him. He controlled himself, knowing they’d have time later. 

“Good.” Dean sheepishly went back to cleaning off his car, taking care to remove all the salt and winter grossness from her shiny features. It didn’t take long under Dean’s careful, sure strokes to get the car gleaming again. As he was rinsing off the last of the soap, they heard the door opening, spotting Michael by the entrance with a look of pure excitement in his eyes.

“So, not only is lunch just about done, but uh…” He stepped inside, his excitement palpable. “Well…”

“Yes?” Dean prodded, half tempted to spray the other man with the running water to get him to spit out whatever it was he had news about. He turned off the hose instead and dried his hands. 

“We won!” He said, smile breaking across his face. “Well technically just me, but it’s you guys too. We won that photo contest! They’re gonna publish the photo in their magazine and online and everything! And we get the $1000 prize. All of which is going to you two, for being my spectacular models.” 

Dean glanced to Cas in disbelief. “Really?” He flushed, startle by the sudden news, and the offer to be given the reward money. “Huh.” He smiled towards Michael. “Well congrats, man.” 

“Hey now, nonna that! I wouldn’t have won without you two being...well you two. I mean, I’ve never seen a more hypnotic image and it’s just because of that chemistry you two had in there. I mean jesus! I would have raised complaint if that pic I sent in hadn’t won.” Michael rambled. 

Cas wrapped his fingers with Dean’s slightly chillier ones, smiling up at him. “Well I’m glad you won. You certainly worked hard enough for it.” Cas praised. If he’d known then that that photograph would lead to what it did, he would have screamed protest until he was blue in the face. He would have taken Dean and run right then and there. Looking back on it all, Michael had a hard time forgiving himself for bringing Dean’s past down on him again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but I figured I'd get it posted before writing ahead since it might take a while. Enjoy!

_“Shh.” The voice hushed him, right in the ear, moist breath tickling his sensitive skin as lips mouthed over the edge of his ear. “Shh. It’s alright, babe. You’re home now.”_

 

\- - -

 

Dean jerked awake with a scream stuck in his throat, able to suck down the sound at the last minute. It was early february and things had been blissfully uneventful. The weather had even decided to clear up a little and offered them some real sun for a change. Yet still, Dean kept having nightmares.

 

Cas stirred besides him, but he didn’t wake and for that Dean was extremely thankful. Glancing at the clock by the bed, he frowned to see it was only about midnight. He hadn’t even been asleep for two hours before he was woken up again with the painfully familiar images in his mind.

 

He heard noise from the living room and slipped out of the bed with a kiss to Cas’ forehead, running a hand down his face exhaustedly. He pulled on a pair of socks to ward of the chill still in the air and padded into the hallway in search of water and some headache medicine. He’d need some if he wanted some actual sleep for the evening.

 

He spotted Michael on the couch, phone to his ear, laptop pulled up to some page he seemed to be looking over. With a squint Dean recognized it as a subpage of the school website. He nodded to Michael when he heard him and looked up, heading into the kitchen though for his supplies. He came back around just as Michael was hanging up the phone with a short “Yeah, I’ll see you in a few weeks, Uncle Zach.”

 

Dean raised a brow, plopping into the armchair across from the couch. “Uncle Zach?”

 

Michael rolled his eyes at Dean, snapping the phone shut. “Yup.” He said with a small smile. “He said he saw our photo in that magazine. He’s always been a big supporter of the arts, so he said he wanted to treat me to a special dinner for my hard work. He said he was going to stop by town in a few weeks on the way to a work conference, asked if he could take us all out. You and Cas included.”

 

“He knows we’re roommates?” Dean asked, taking a big mouthful of water, tilting his head back and tossing the pills in too to swallow down.

 

“Does now.” Michael said with raised brow at the pills. “Been on the phone for a good hour or two, talking about school and life. You two and Sam came up. The usual family talk kind of stuff.”

 

“I wouldn’t know.” Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. “He gonna stay a while or just passing through?”

 

Michael could tell the continued questioning was in part to deter him from asking about the pills, so he let Dean have his way. He could tell the other man had been having a weird bout of nightmares again on and off for a few days now. “I think he said he’s gonna try to stay a night, nothing longer though. He said he’d figured he’d be heading this way anyways, might as well break the trip up a bit to stop by and say hey. Don’t get to see him much cause of his work. Big business man for this place called P.T. Sandover in Ohio. Said he’s meeting some business partners down in LA.”

 

“Ugh. Corporate a-holes.” Dean groaned, stretching his legs out and tossing his head back to lean into the chair cushions, head angled back. He rubbed at his brow with a small groan, propping his elbow on the armrest and tilting his head into his palm slowly. “No offense. I’m sure he’s swell.”

 

Michael let out a small laugh. “Honestly don’t know him too well outside family reunions. He took a big interest in my photography though, so that’s good. More interest than my parents anywho. They’re off in their own little fantasy world writing all the time. But hey, no complaints here. They’re paying for all my shit. I’m grateful.”

 

Dean let out a huff. “Writers, huh? You said they did what, that Supernormal bullshit?”

 

“Supernatural.” Michael corrected with a laugh. “Cult hit, those. I think they’re making a TV show or a movie or something off them soon. Was never a big fan myself.”

 

Dean rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows as he heard a noise from down the hall. No doubt Cas had woken up. “Never read uhm myself.”

 

“Read what?” Cas asked with a sleepy mumbled, popping up around the corner right on cue. His hair was a mess like always and his face was droopy with sleep, eyes blinking closed every few seconds. He padded over towards Dean when the older male indicated he should come sit on his lap, folding himself into Dean’s arms easily with a sleepy murmur, his head falling onto Dean’s shoulder.

 

“That Supernatural series.” Dean supplied.

 

“It was decent.” Cas shrugged, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder as he was wrapped in the others warm arms. “Would fare better as a show I think though…” He yawned into Dean’s neck, tickling his skin. “What brought that up?”

 

“Mikey’s parental units wrote the series. His uncle Zach-”

 

“Zachariah Adler” Michael intoned with a huffy voice and smirk, letting Dean continue.

 

“Called, said he saw our contest winning photo, invited us all out to eat when he pops through town.” Dean explained, petting at Cas’ back lightly, holding him a bit closer at the chill he felt go through the younger male. “I was about to head back to bed. Want me to carry you?” He asked with a soft kiss to Cas’ cheek. With a little nod, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and let the stronger man lift him up with ease, saying goodnight to Michael. He didn’t mind being carried, knew Michael didn’t care, and knew Dean liked being able to spoil him. He instantly snuggled close to Dean once they were back in the bed, sleep groggily demanding Dean not leave again with a sprawl of limbs all across Dean’s body possessively.

 

A soft little “I won’t, babe” eased him back to sleep and he sank into darkness again unaware of Dean’s fitful sleep.

 

\- - -

 

_"If you'd just be a good boy, Dean," Fingers traced down red welts. "I wouldn't have to keep punishing you."_


	16. Chapter 16

_“I thought I told you I wanted to hear you scream.” The voice whispered gently across his parched, bloody lips. “You’ve deprived me for so long. Come on. Just one beautiful scream.”_

\----

“Ugh, I’m exhausted.” Michael complained as he dropped his backpack on the floor by Dean’s bag. He shucked his jacket and hung it on the peg just inside the back room’s door and grabbed his apron from underneath, pulling it on and tying it tight. “That test was brutal.” 

“Well at least it’s out of the way now.” Dean commented, grabbing a spare cup and filling it with Michael’s favorite go to drink, handing it over to him with a welcoming smile as his coworker settled into the, luckily, not busy atmosphere of the coffee shop. They were right in the middle of their lull period before lunch so things were calm for now. 

“True enough.” He said, greedily taking the coffee and blowing on it with a soft thank you. Taking a cautious sip of the hot liquid he looked Dean over, raising a brow at the worn expression he was wearing. “How’s the shop been all day?” 

“Not too bad, the usual first test of the season rush.” He shrugged, already ready for the day to be over. But he had further obligations. Michael’s uncle was coming in to town for the evening, and had invited them to dinner at the local Italian five star restaurant that Dean kind of cringed to think about going to. It was just so high class of a place for someone like him that the thought made him anxious. He couldn’t even afford to take Cas on dates to restaurants like that. Cas had reassured him a few times already that he didn’t care about how expensive the place was, he liked homey shops where he could get comfortably intimate with Dean in a booth or at a small table. It made Dean melt a little to know his boyfriend understood his worries so well without him even properly voicing his concerns. It was still going to be weird, though, going to dinner with the man later that night. 

“How long have you been on?” Michael asked, knowing Dean was pretty much running the shop at this point. The owner was never really there, and had officially named Dean the manager about a month ago. Besides Dean and Michael, there were four other part time student workers that worked the weekend and early morning shifts almost exclusively, occassionally supplementing the three main rush periods of the day. Dean was working most weekdays open until 5, meaning he worked twelve hour shifts most days. He was clocking out early, though, today because of their dinner plan and had Michael working from 12-5 with another employee, with someone coming in after to close up the last five hours. 

“The usual.” Dean said, checking the clock. He could technically clock out now, but he had 15 more minutes of his shift that overlapped with Michael before the other part timer came in to deal with the potential lunch rush. He was also waiting on Cas to get out of class and come meet him. They didn’t have anything planned besides a much needed nap, but Dean looked forward to it. His nerves were fraying for no reason, and he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He knew the long hours and the lack of sleep weren’t helping anything. 

“Dude, you’re killing yourself with these hours, you know that, right?” Michael said with a shake of his head. “I know you’re a machine, but dude. Give yourself a break.” 

“That’s what I’m doing tonight.” Dean pointed out, spotting two approaching figures from outside looking over their outer sign with interest. He moved to the front of the counter, ready for them to come inside and order as Michael settled in with the rest of his drink. 

“Well you should at least get someone else helping out the mornings. That shifts killer even for two of you.” Michael said as he sipped his drinking with a content sigh, enjoying the caffeinated pick me up. He was still concerned, though, for his roommate. He’d been able to see the tense lines and anxious stress on his face and through his shoulders the moment he’d gotten inside. It was worrying. He’d never seen Dean anxious before, not like this anyways. 

The two gentlemen outside came in with a smile on one of their faces. He was an older male, probably middle aged, with grey hair and a noticeable bald spot. He was wearing a neat dark grey suit and grey tie, and had grey eyes to match. He looked pleased to have found the shop though his companion had a stony expression on his face. He was about the same height as the grey haired man, wearing a matching dark suit, sans a tie however. He had dark skin and dark brown eyes that scanned the coffee shop once before falling on Dean at the counter and staring intensely at him. 

“Welcome to Insomniac’s Heaven, how may I help you gentlemen?” Dean asked with a friendly smile, seeing the way the smiley white haired male seemed to be enraptured by the smell of the shop, delighting in the atmosphere. In the background Dean had an old jazzy record playing, a gift from Bobby a few years back. It was open and warm and smelled of fresh cinnamon and warm vanilla. Dean had made a fresh batch of their most popular muffins just ten minutes ago and the warm scent of them still filled the shop drawing the customer’s eyes to the display of baked goods.

“Oh this is just delightful!” The man smiled at Dean, his voice catching Michael’s attention. “I may just have to sample half the goods here.” 

Michael sidled up besides Dean, raising a brow. “Uncle Zach?” 

“Michael! There you are! You failed to describe the wonderful charm of this little shop.” Those grey eyes smiled. “We got into town a bit early, so I decided to drop by and see where you’ve been working. Get some fresh coffee too.” 

Michael smiled, nudging Dean lightly in the side. “You’re just in time, then. I literally just got on shift. This is Dean, by the way; coworker, manager, roommate and award winning model.”

Dean let out a little huff of breath, feeling his skin crawl with the sudden attention on him, and the feel of the other man’s eyes still on him. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He said politely with a nod. 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Zachariah smiled, looking Dean over openly before turning to his friend. Dean felt the hairs on his arms prickle and raise as a small shuddered drifted through him, glad the attention was turned away from him. There was only so much forced friendliness he could offer when eyed over like that. It brought back memories of slimy smiles and unpleasant leering gazes. “This is my associate Uriel. We’re just stopping for lunch and a quick debrief before he heads on down to LA. Got a little work to get done before dinner tonight.” He said, introducing the dark skinned male at his side. “Uriel, this is my nephew I was telling you about.”

“Pleasure.” The man said with a rumble, nodding once but otherwise staying stonily silent and still. His eyes drifted back to Dean every so often, making Dean’s skin itch from the gaze. He didn’t like being stared at like that. It just amped up his anxiety.

“Is there anything I can get you two to refresh you from your travels?” Dean asked, wanting to get out of the direct line of sight of these two men.Uriel’s intense stare was making him feel twitchy. He wished he had a knife on him, just for the reassuring weight of a blade in his pocket. He wouldn’t even think about using it in the shop, but he’d feel much more relieved just knowing it was on his person. 

“Oh yes, yes. Uriel? I know what I want. I’ll have one of those fabulous smelling muffins you’ve got on display. And a americano.” He smiled brightly, pulling out his wallet as his companion ordered a regular coffee. 

Dean slipped away from Michael and his Uncle to prepare their drinks, relief washing through him when he heard the door open and glanced over to see his boyfriend entering the store. He smiled at the reassuring presence, admiring the wind rumpled hair, the slightly pink cheeks from the chill of the air from the walk from campus. He slid past Michael and the two men with a little wave, settling his things onto his regular open table with a soft smile towards Dean. He quickly finished his drink orders and brought them out to the two men, catching Cas’ attention with his forcefully pleasant “I hope you enjoy the drinks. I guess I’ll see you at dinner.”

The two men left with a quick, painless goodbye, allowing Dean to plod over to Cas and sink across his shoulders with a little sigh. “Hey, babe.” He murmured with a kiss to Cas’ chilled cheek, nuzzling into his neck from behind as his arms wrapped around Cas’ shoulders in a hug. 

“Hey to you.” He said back with a gentle kiss to Dean’s cheek, turning in the chair a little and reaching up to cup Dean’s cheeks in chilled fingers, placing a warm kiss to his lips. “How’s work been?” He asked with a worried furrow to his brows, instantly picking up on Dean’s intensified tension. He could see it in the set of his eyes, the weight of his shoulders. He thumbed his way over Dean’s cheek, noticing slight bags beneath his eyes that were beginning to form and would surely get worse if he was working his normal shift. He was glad he’d convinced Dean to give himself a half day. 

“Exhausting. Bunch of exam week customers.” He sighed, slipping around so he was standing more in front of Cas, lacing his fingers with one of Cas’ hands as he held the other to his cheek gently, turning in to kiss the palm softly. “How was class?” 

Cas sighed, knowing Dean was probably even more tense because of the dinner tonight, and meeting Michael’s uncle just now probably just skyrocketed his anxiety. For some reason he could tell Dean wasn’t looking forward to the dinner, to talking with Zachariah, even though he was generally fine striking up a conversation with random strangers. He worried it was because of the bad dreams he’d been having lately. He wished he knew how to settle them for the other male, but Dean didn’t want to talk about them. He would avoid letting Cas find out about the nightmares, despite Cas’ worries. They’d had a small fight about it the other week, and Cas was still a little frustrated Dean wouldn’t just talk to him about it. He knew it had something to do with his past, and he didn’t want to push Dean into talking about it, but he really thought it would help him to get some of it off his chest. “The usual. Don’t have too much homework though, which is good. Just have to study for a quiz on monday.” 

Dean nodded slightly, glancing over the counter to Michael where his roommate was taking an order. “So that was Michael’s uncle, earlier. And one of his coworkers.” 

“I figured.” Cas said with a tilt of his head, wondering what was going through Dean’s mind right now. He couldn’t read the mixture of emotions in those green pools, though he could tell the other man was over thinking something. “How much longer are you on shift?” He asked, eager to get Dean back to the apartment and help him relax a little. He was glad Dean hadn’t tried to work all evening and then do this dinner. He was almost always tired out from his long shifts at work, and would cat nap before dinner just so he could stay awake long enough to actually interact with his boyfriend during the evening. 

Dean glanced at his watch. “Five minutes.”

“Dude.” Michael came over to the counter closer to their table. “Just go home. You’re exhausted. It’s making me feel tired just looking at you.” 

Cas smiled at Michael, glad the other man wanted Dean to give himself a break, too. “Come on. You’re the manager. It’s five minutes. Michael’s already here. Give yourself a little bit of a break.” He encouraged, rubbing at Dean’s hip gently where he’d perched his hand a second ago. “I’ll give you a nice relaxing massage when we get back.” 

Dean flushed slightly, squeezing Cas’ hand. “Alright. Alright. I’ll clock out early.” He said, leaning down and kissing Cas softly on the lips. “Gimme a sec to grab my stuff.” He said, heading to the back room to grab his coat, hang up his apron and clock out. 

\-----

_“Do you remember this one?” He held the tool in front of his face, smiling viciously. “It was your favorite, wasn’t it? I know it was mine.”_


	17. Chapter 17

Dean’s head rolled as it dipped into the couch cushions, feeling heavy. He blinked groggily at the room around him, aware that it was his own living room. He felt weird though, tired beyond belief. It was a monumental effort to keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds at a time. He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to stay awake, knew something wasn’t quite right. 

He was vaguely aware of the dinner earlier, with Zachariah’s probbing questions about his past, about his family, about his relationships with Cas. It had been uncomfortable to say the least. He’d been semi-aware of them coming back to the apartment, Zachariah towing along because Michael had offered him a drink and to let him see the place. Apparently that’s the kind of thing family did. Cas had gone to bed early, having to be up for an early morning group meeting that disrupted his otherwise perfectly free weekend. Dean remembered coming back from the bedroom, after kissing Cas goodnight and promising they’d have a good weekend tomorrow, to Michael and Zach on the couch drinking, an open bottle of beer waiting on him. 

He’d hesitantly settled back in, knowing it was expected of him, since Zachariah seemed intent on learning all about Michael and his life. He’d been as tight lipped and stubborn as always about talking much about himself, giving vague answers or half truths. That’s the last he remembered. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or finishing his drink, or Zachariah leaving. He tried to pull himself up into a seated position, feeling weak muscled all over. He felt fingers glide through his hair and his eyes drifted shut at the feeling, body sinking back into the couch. Those fingers gently brushed over his forehead to his eyes, covering them as the owner moved around the couch, another hand brushing across his arm, sliding down to the edge of his chest, playing lightly with the edge of his shirt before pushing at his body. Unable to resist, his body fell over onto his back, fingers blocking out his sight as he tried to blink back to conciousness. Was this just a weird dream? Was Cas just teasing him?

“Cas?” He forced out in a weak groan, trying to turn his head out from under those fingers. He was shushed, and hot breath ghosted over his cheek before he felt fingers tracing a scar by his hip bone. He shivered, frowning, as the lower hand pushed up his shirt, rucking it up to his armpits. Fingers traced each visible scar; across a cut near his right nipple, along pale barely noticable lines between each rib, over a deep indent near the dip of his right shoulder, across the raised brand just under the dip of his left armpit. He shivered and tried again to turn his head away, letting out a small sound of discomfort, to warn Cas away. He didn’t like attention being drawn to that mark. 

Another, slightly harsher hush cause Dean’s whole body to tense, and he tried to will his heavy limbs to respond. “G-get off…” He groaned, weakly pushing at the cushions beneath him to sit up, body shaking with the effort.

“Shhh.” The voice cooed into his ear this time, the hand sliding his shirt back into place and putting effort on Dean’s shoulder to push him back down into the couch. “Sleep.” The voice rumbled by his ear, “Sleep, Winchester.” 

Dean tried to fight to stay awake, but it was a losing battle, and darkness fell over him completely. Waking up hours later he felt a little nauseous, sitting up too quickly. He was in his bed, Cas’ spot empty next to him. Covering his mouth with his hand to fight off the urge to vomit he glanced at the clock, noting that Cas must be at his meeting. He groaned, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his head on his knees. He scrubbed at his face, eyes searching around the room for anything out of sorts, finding nothing. Had he just had a weird dream last night? He must have drank too much, surely. He did feel a bit like he had a brutal hangover. Plus, he’d dreamt he was on the couch, right? He definitely had no prior history with sleepwalking either. Forcing down the bile in his throat, he shakily got out of bed and went to grab some water from the bathroom sink to wash the gross feeling out of his mouth. God, he must’ve drunk way too much. 

A few hours later, still feeling pretty damn shitty, Dean heard the front door open. He’d taken to laying in bed, his head killing him despite the medicine he’d taken, buried so no light go through besides the light of his phone, which he had been using to read random articles and try to entertain himself. He’d just sent out an email to Bobby keeping him updated, when Cas pushed the bedroom door open. 

“Dean?” 

“Mm” He let out a small noise to acknowledge he was in fact in the room, kicking out a foot so his toes peeked out the end of the covers. “‘m nesting.” He rasped out, unaware how rough his voice was until now. It made sense, he had vomited twice earlier. He sounded awful, and he cringed at the feel of his throat as he swallowed. 

“Are you okay?” Cas’ deep voice barely traveled through the layers with the soft query, as Dean heard him set his bag down, pull of his shoes, and then pad over to the edge of the bed, sitting on the edge closest to Dean and setting a hand on the lump of Dean’s back beneath the covers.

Dean let out a little grumble sound, flailing weakly to dig himself out of the covers a little without losing his bubble of warmth and darkness. He flopped one hand out next to his face under the pillow, making a small window for himself to peek out at Cas. “Not really.” 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, voice instantly demanding and worried. He reached out and gripped the offered hand, a thumb brushing along the underside of his wrist over his pulse. “Are you sick?” He quipped, leaning down with a tilt of his head to peer in at Dean, a line of worry knitting between his brows. “Do you need anything?”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the serious way his boyfriend took to worrying, the intensity of his gaze as he tried to visually assess him, the extreme focus to which he turned his worry on Dean. Dean spaced out, watching that face come a little closer, blue eyes dark like the deep ocean as they squinted in at him. Cas’ eyes were like galaxies, full of knowledge of power, and wonder. He loved staring into those eyes, marveling at their constant intensity, the bright sky blue and the deep navy depths. They were dark, now, like a royal blue, rich like the last color of the day’s light in the sky. Cas’ hand moved from his back over the covers to reach in a cup his face through the small gap. Dean let out a little sigh at the touch, shivering as he remembered the odd dream from the night before and contrasted the memory of the foreign touch with the familiar feel of Cas’ narrow fingers on his stubbled cheek, gentle and comforting. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a soft breath against those elegant fingers, curling his outer hand around the fingers over top of his, tucking Cas’ fingers into his palm. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, softer, more hesitant.

Dean blinked, having to force his eyes back open, startled that he’d zoned out like that. He stared wide eyed back out at those concerned blue pools that looked so young suddenly. He always saw Cas as older than he let out, a wiser soul in a young body. But he looked young and confused, and worried. 

Frowning, Dean tugged Cas’ hand under the blankets and pillows to his lips, kissing the knuckles gently as he closed his eyes again. “You don’t have anything else to do today, right?” He asked in a gravely rough voice, cringing at little at the after burn of the vomits damage on his throat. 

“Yeah…” Cas answered softly, hesitantly, obviously still waiting for Dean to explain what was the matter. 

“Good.” He murmured, tugging Cas’ hand gently, wanting him to get the hint and come under the covers with him and snuggle for a while. He felt awful still, didn’t want to move because every time he did he felt weary to the bone, and even trying to lift his head set of a small chain reaction of awfulness and nausea. 

Cas took the hint after a moment, hesitating before pulling away from Dean’s grip, standing up and pulling aside all the layers of Dean’s blanket nest. The light that assaulted Dean’s eyes briefly made him groan and cringe back further into the pillow sanctuary he had buried his head in before, making a little more room for Cas as he forced himself further back towards the center of the bed rather than at it’s edge. Cas quickly slipped under the covers, laying on his side facing Dean as he dropped the covers back over theirs hands to shut out the light and the obvious cause of discomfort for Dean. Dean didn’t even have to look to know there was a frown on those lips he loved, as the younger male hesitantly spooned up close to Dean’s torso, wrapping his arms around Dean’s back and sliding a leg over Dean’s nearest one as he pushed his nose against Dean’s where he lay on his belly, head turned towards Cas’. Dean took a moment to heavily drag his arm from between them and drape it over Cas’ middle, pulling the other man a little closer in as he turned a bit more to his side, still staying fairly horizontal with his belly to the mattress.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Cas asked again, brushing fingers gently through his hair, down the back of his neck, and along his shoulders in a soothing rub that made Dean shiver. 

“Not sure.” Dean admitted, taking in deep steadying breaths. “Woke up feeling nauseous.Vomited twice.” 

Cas instantly tensed up beneath Dean’s arm, and he pressed in just a hair closer, fingers running down to his lower back rubbing gentle circle there instead. “Did you drink a lot last night?”

“I don’t know.” Dean groaned, feeling miserable with the thought of it. “I only remember the one, when I got out there after saying goodnight. I don’t remember anything from after that, pretty much. And I had this...this really vivid, awful dream.” He murmured, goose bumps rising all over his arms at the thought. He shivered, feeling a bit chilled despite the extra heat now under the blankets. “I drank some water, took some painkillers, but I still feel awful.” 

Cas hummed in thought, gentle brushing eskimo kisses across Dean’s nose with the tip of his own. “What was the dream about?” 

Dean shivered and shook his head, feeling a little nauseous again at the memory of the weird touch, the heavy boned feeling that seemed to follow him into the next morning. He slowly dragged his fingers down to Cas’ hand on his back, pulling it around slowly. He pulled it along with his hand as he drew his own down his left side, to the edge of his shirt, pushing their combined fingers up under the fabric along his side and to just under his armpit. He pressed Cas’ fingers gently to the spot he knew the other man would now recognize as the weird pitchfork brand he’d never gotten an explanation about before. 

Cas’ fingers brushed against the mark, openly mapping it for the first time now that he was actively allowed to acknowledge it’s position marring Dean’s skin. “Dean…” He breathed uncertainly, the worry and curiosity palpable. 

“..it’s…” He frowned, body going tense beneath the touch, just at the thought of it. “The mark of Lucifer’s Gang…” He murmured tensely. “Alastair branded me with it when I first got involved with their Hell.” He offered, not wanting to elaborate more than that. He unlaced his fingers from Cas’, letting the other man’s fingers stay splayed over the mark as he heavily draped his arm back over Cas’ side. “I can’t really remember what the dream was about...but i was on the couch, and i thought you were just teasing me or something…” He rasped out, voice lower than usual. “...you were covering my eyes and checking me for this mark...and I felt too heavy to move...to stay awake.” 

Cas frowned, worrying his bottom lip as he pressed his palm flat over the mark, fingers curling along the curve of Dean’s side and back. “Do you think it was just a weird drunk dream? Maybe you’re getting sick. You’ve been overly stressed lately, and you worked yourself up about last nights dinner a lot. Maybe Michael’s Uncle’s questioning brought up some weird memories of you past. Could just be a sick stress dream…” Cas offered uncertainly. “I don’t know what else it could be...you were in bed when i woke up…” He rubbed his thumb reassuringly against the skin beneath his fingers, delighting in the warmth of Dean. He was concerned about his weird demeanor though, and the way he was acting a bit drugged.

Dean let out a small hum, and huff of breath against Cas’ cheek. “Could be…” He said in a shallow breath, eyes dropping shut. “Wanted to be better by the time you got back…” He eyes drifted shut fully, his fingers curling into the fabric of Cas’ shirt as he breathed through his nose. “‘m tired still…” 

Cas bit at the inside of his cheek, even more worried. Dean was so used to long days, and being able to be up and energetic and active even if he didn’t get much sleep. For him to be actively seeking out more sleep after only being up probably an hour or two at most was beyond strange. He rarely stayed in bed past his initial wake up time unless Cas was there to actively cuddle or tease. If he didn’t have work to do when he woke up he’d usually be at his desk drawing or writing, or sitting up in bed reading until Cas woke up, too. 

“If you’re sick, there’s nothing to be done. You need some more sleep. Don’t worry about me. I’ll spend this time getting ahead on school work and studying.” He promised, bringing his other hand, the one tucked closest to the mattress beneath his body, up to slip up Dean’s pillow side cheek, brushing his thumb across the warm skin there. “You can make it up to me when you’re feeling better.” He whispered with a soft kiss to Dean’s slack lips, aware that the other male had drifted off as he spoke. 

Frowning at the uncharacteristicness Dean presented him, Cas pressed in close to the other male, holding him close as he slept. He buried his face in his shoulder, curling over him carefully, making sure not to put any pressure on his upset stomach or block his face from it’s air supply. He nuzzled into Dean’s broad back and pouted slightly, thumbing over the mark his hand still rested against. Making sure Dean was asleep, he sat up a little, lifted the covers to let some light in, and examined the mark more closely. It was about the size of his thumb, narrow and long, a raised pink, puffy looking mark. He couldn’t imagine what it had felt like, to have a hot metal brand press into skin like that, and shivered to know Dean did, that and so much more. Whipped and branded, and from the looks of his other marks cut and sliced into. Cas felt an immense, unbearable bubble of sorrow fill his chest, making it feel tight and constricted as he sucked in a weak little breath, fighting back the urge to cry. He would not pity Dean. He knew Dean would had it if he knew his past caused Cas pain like this, knew the other man would shut off any further information about his past if he showed this kind of reaction to it. He pressed his face into the fabric of Dean’s shirt on his back and breathed through the thoughts filling him with this desire to lash out, to scream in anger at the world for putting Dean through everything he wouldn’t talk about. He wanted to find the bastards responsible and smite their sorry asses. He was sad, yes, but more so he was angry. Frustratingly furious at his inability to make any of it better. 

“What good is being your angel if I can’t protect you from your own memories?” He hissed into the fabric beneath his lips, fighting the sting of tears in his eyes. “What good am I if I can’t protect you from the past?”

It took Cas a while to calm down before he was able to slip out of the bed and leave Dean to his rest. He wiped his cheeks and rolled his shoulders, going to his shoulder bag and pulling out his laptop, settling into the bed besides Dean again, leaning against the headboard and opening the machine. He signed in quickly, brushing fingers through Dean’s hair by his hip as he waited for it to load up, and then quickly opened his browser to search “Lucifer Gang, pitch mark”. The least he could do is find out what little there was about them, if he could. 

Hours of searching and the task proved more difficult that he expected. He’d gotten a few hits early on, mostly news articles about past members, a few more about found bodies thought to be linked to the gang. Very little was detailed, but it was obvious from the victims articles that they hadn’t been in one piece when found. 

And then, right as he was about to give up his search he saw a news article with an oddly familiar face staring up at him. He squinted at the picture, clicked the link, and sucked in a startled breath. Detailed in the article was the bust of some of the gangs activities going on near Chicago. A young agent had gone undercover to try to infiltrate the local group, only to disappear of the grid for a week, showing up suddenly again at the end of the week, after an anonymous phone call. Scrolling down, an overly familiar face stared up at Cas and made him have to bite back a startled gasp as he saw the subtitle beneath his half brother’s face. His statement read that he’d been unaware of the going ons of the location he’d been held at, only vaguely aware of other inhabitants. He was rescued after hearing a scuffle, which he found out later by investigators of the crime scene to have been the murder of one of the main torturers. The gang member, identified as “Azazel Yed”, had his throat slit in his bathroom while shaving. Police were later notified by a young anonymous caller about a murder at the location, the ended with the discovery of the murdered gang member, the discovery of one undercover cop, Gabriel Milton, and what appeared to be a torture den with the DNA of fifteen missing persons, the unidentified DNA of three other, closely related persons, and the DNA of two other non-identified peoples. 

Cas couldn’t stop staring as he read the article over a few times, biting back the disbelief. Shaking his head in disbelief he scrolled up to the top of the page and looked at the date, mentally doing the math to figure out how long ago that had been. About six and a half years ago. Oh god. Gabriel was what, twenty nine now? He’d have been 23 back then, right out of college, starting his job with the police, which had abruptly been turned into desk job where he stayed out of the field all the time, performing research instead. Cas felt sick to his stomach, fitting the pieces together in his his head. And...and...even worse was the idea nagging at Cas’ mind that Dean had been there, would instantly recognize this date right in October, would be able to explain exactly what happened to the man who Cas had seen drawn with a red slash beneath his face in Dean’s sketchbook. Dean had given him two names: Alastair and Azazel. Back when they’d first gotten together, what had he overheard Dean and Sam talking about in the bathroom? Hadn’t Dean said something about one of them being dead, the other one unable to find them? Calculating again, because Cas needed to know, he took Dean’s current age, having just turned twenty five, minus the six and a halfish years made him 18 and, a little more math and the help of the internet rounded Dean’s age to 18 years, 9 months.. Dean hadn’t gone to highschool, he’d said so himself, gotten a GED himself. He’d said they’d lived with Bobby while Sam went to highschool. That was four years, and Sam was in his second half of his sophmore year. That added up to atleast 5 and a half years. Leaving one year. Sam was…, more mental math and Cas came to realize his friend would be turning 21 in a few months. Not too noticable, but a bit older than most students in their sophmore year. Cas vaguely remember Dean saying they’d spent a lot of time moving around, which could account for the age and class difference, and make up for that time between the date of the article and one year more year needed to add to his calculations from Sam’s age. 

Fuck.

Fucking fuck, fuck. 

It fit, too well. Cas knew it did. Dean had to have been there. He had to. The picture in Dean’s book, the story about a slashed throat...the shocking revelation that his own brother had been subject to the same monsters that left Dean’s body and mind scarred was overwhelming. He didn’t know what to do with this information, how to process it. He’d wanted to know more about Dean’s past, but looking on even a small snippet of it now was almost too much. His heart was thundering against his chest, the pulse of it rushing through his ears drowning out his elevated breathing.

Had...had Dean killed that man? Did it matter if he did? Cas still loved him, didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop. Dean’s past was full of darkness, yet his mind was vibrant and full of life. He was intelligent. friendly, outgoing. But he wasn’t manipulative, or angry, or deceptive. He put everyone else first, taking care of Sam, taking care of Cas, taking care of Michael. He worked hard to make money to help Sam pay for school, to pay Bobby back. He pushed down the pain any time it reared it’s head, and Cas hated seeing it, but he’d much rather that than the alternative where it all came spilling out, all came crashing down and overwhelmed Dean. Dean was strong, resilient, battle worn. He had little quirks that made Cas think of a soldier sometimes, and maybe it’s because Dean had seen war, had been brought up by a man that, from what little Cas knew of John, was ex-marine and angry at the world. Heart broken and lost. Dean’d endured so much, had lost so much, sacrificed himself. Taken care of Sam, given up his own chance to further his education by channeling his time into ensuring Sam his. 

Did it matter if he killed a man? If that man had tortured and abused him, psychologically fucked him over. Wouldn’t Cas do the same thing? Dean was haunted by the very picture of this man, had nightmares of the past that he existed in. Weren’t the fitful nights of sleep, the determination to be a better man, and the effort of doing his best enough retribution if he had killed a man that torture him? 

Cas closed his eyes, breathed in deep, and let it out slowly.

Calm. He needed to think straight. Calmer.

He would have done the same. 

He _would_ do the same. 

If someone ever tried to hurt Dean, or Sam, or Gabriel like that ever...Cas would probably take a razor and slit their throats as well. God forgive him, he would do it. The very thought of someone hurting his family like that felt like feathers being pulled cut from phantom wings. So yeah, Cas could forgive Dean the murder of a man whose very thought still tortured him and his brother after six years. 

He really needed to talk to Gabriel, though, and Sam. To Bobby. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to know the truth, even if it was as dark as he feared. He couldn’t stop imagining Dean stuck in a place where undercover cops disappeared for weeks, where fifteen missing persons were suspected to have been murdered in, to a place condemned in the article as a “torture pit comparable to depictions of Hell.” 

If Cas was to be Dean’s angel, surely he could wash away the stain of Hell upon his lover’s soul. He had years of damage, or psychological abuse to fix, and he would do it. Closing his laptop and curling over Dean’s form gently where he lay asleep with his arms wrapped around one of Cas’ legs now, Cas made a promise with a gently kiss to Dean's temple. “I will wash away their sins upon your soul, Dean Winchester." He brushed his fingers through Dean's hair and gazed upon Dean's sleep slackened face. "You are a righteous and just man, and I will raise you from your past perdition with my love, my devotion, my life." Tracing fingers down Dean's back Cas remembered words from months ago, and a sketch of wings upon his back. "We will soar together, you and I, or we shall burn together.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Sam?” Cas bit at the inside of his cheek, squinting up at the taller male where he stood a few feet away, leaning against the impala’s hood. They had decided to take a day trip down to a lake an hours drive from their apartments, since the weather was getting warm enough to go swimming again. Dean was horsing around with Michael in the water, while Sam and himself took a small break. 

It was surprisingly hot out, the cold weather having been swept away over the weekend. After the stressful weekend before when Dean hadn’t been feeling good for the day, and after Cas’ discovery of the news article, they’d all needed a break. 

“Yeah, Cas?” Sam asked as he took a long pull from the water bottle in his hands. They were both in nothing but their swim trunks, water clinging to their skin and hair. Cas couldn’t help but dart his eyes over Sam’s chest, checking for any scars or marks. 

Cas was relieved to find the younger brother unmarked, minus a single scar along his shoulders. He was toned all over, just like Dean, though more noticeably muscled because of his more active lifestyle that included gym between class, and early morning running. 

“How…” He paused, thinking over his choice of questions as he stared out at the water where his friends were trying to dunk each other. “How long was Dean stuck there?” 

Sam instantly tensed, his body going shockingly still as his hazel eyes darted down to Cas’ own blue ones. He slowly dropped his hands to his side, closing the water bottle with deft fingers, and wetting his dry lips. “What brought this question on?” He asked in a softer voice, eyes moving to the water to the subject of the question.

Cas hesitated, fiddling with the cap in his hand before twisting it back on his own bottle, turning to face Sam more fully. “I know they tortured him. I know he killed that man.” Sam whole body jolted with the words as he turned to stare at Cas with wide eyes. “I know he did it to protect you. I just...I want to know how long.” 

Sam’s eyes were pained as they stared at Cas, searching the blue eyes in silence for a moment as his frown deepened. “Dean didn’t tell you.” He stated.

“No.” Cas nodded once. 

“How then?” 

“I found an article about Azazel’s death when looking up the Lucifer Gang. Last weekend,” He clarified, tracking Sam’s expression closely, seeing the way his eyes clouded with the painful memories at the names Castiel knew. “When Dean was feeling sick, he told me about the brand.” 

Sam nodded slowly, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth as he turned his gaze to the bottle in his hands. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “ A bit over two years.” 

Cas felt goosebumps raise all over his skin, and he couldn’t help the full body shiver. Two years in Hell. “Did they ever…” He shook his head, turning back to lean against the hood again, facing out to the lake. He felt a little sick at the thought, trying to imagine two hours let alone two years. He'd heard of people that never recovered from one night of rape. God, even two days with those monsters could have fucked Dean up. It's no wonder it took six years to even get to this point in his life. Dean was resilient, though, strong. He didn't like being weak, showing weakness, not even to himself. 

He waited amount to speak again, sure now of his next words. “Dean never let them hurt you.” 

“Yeah.” Sam answered with a dry, humorless laugh. “Dad…” His voice deepened with anger at the mere word. “He practically sold us to them. He’d always been a shitty father before that, but the just gave up on us, on himself.” 

Cas hesitantly reached over and settled a hand on Sam’s shoulder, feeling the thrum of tension running through him. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I just needed to know.” 

Sam let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he looked up again towards the water, too, following Cas’ own gaze as Dean came up for air, taunting Michael with a warm, easy going smirk. His back was turned to them and above the water they could just barely make out the tops of his scars. “It’s my fault, too.” Sam said, suddenly, after the moment of silence, startling Cas’ gaze to the taller male’s profile. “Not intentionally, but...I was so fed up with moving around, so tired of living with Dad as he dragged us around from shitty motel to shitty motel. I just wanted to stay in one place, be able to go to school consistently, and make friends. I wanted Dean to stop having to work dangerous jobs to make enough money to feed us, I wanted him to stop bowing to Dad’s every command…” He shook with long seated anger and frustration, eyes stormy. 

“That’s how Dad sold it to us; going with them. He said we’d be able to stay in one place, go to school, stop moving around. Said they just wanted to train us for some odd jobs they needed done.” Sam snorted, roughly twisting the cap off the bottle and downing the rest of the water in one go, “Found out later Dad was using us to pay off his debts to them. He literally sold us to them to save his own damn hide. Azazel had wanted young kids, younger than Dean. He would train us, make us go to school, sharpen our minds. There were other kids that I’d see sometimes in there, my age... Azazel would give them this drug called “Demon’s Blood”, get them addicted on it. It was supposed to make you smarter, more alert, stronger. Some people took to it like candy, others would get one dose and OD, others went completely nuts. There was no way to know who'd react what way...it was awful. Dean never let them give it to me, bargained himself to Alastair to keep me safe.” 

Sam tossed his bottle in the trashcan a few yards away, his precision perfect as it sank it without any effort. Cas couldn’t help but get a chill at the simple demonstration. He’d seen it, in both of them the power built into their bodies, the accuracy of their touch, their aim, their eyes. He had seen their sharp gazes, their intelligence, their silent communication and codes. 

“Dean slit that man’s throat.” Cas whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Wish I had done it sooner.” 

“So.” He took a small drink from his bottle. “Six and a half years.”

“Yup.” Sam’s lips twisted into a rye smile. “And it still haunts him.” 

“It still haunts you.” Cas looked to Sam, unsmiling as he caught Sam’s gaze. “Both of you.” 

Sam frowned, clicking his tongue on his teeth. “Guess it’s kind of ingrained in us.” He shrugged. “We were raised to be soldiers, not children.”

“No.” Cas shook his head. “Dean was.” He turned to face Sam fully again. “You were raised by Dean, not your father. You’ve said so yourself. He raised you to be free.” 

Sam's eyes filled suddenly with tears and before Cas knew it he was being wrapped up in long arms and pulled closed to Sam's much bigger body. He startled at the sudden contact, blinking in confusion.

"You're supposed to hug back." Sam said into his hair, with a watery laugh.

"Ah, yes. Sorry." He wrapped his arms up around Sam and pat his back gently, smiling at the comfoting embrace. When Sam pulled back he offered Sam a gentle smile, noticing Dean and Michael heading out of the water.

Dean came up to them, grabbing a towel and rubbing water off of his face. "What's up with you sasquatch?" He asked, instantly noticing the remains of tears in his brother's eyes. Within seconds Sam was grabbing at Dean and pulling him into his arms in a crushing hug, longs arms wrapping around Dean's scarred back, criss-crossing with the white lines there.

He pushed his face into Dean's wet hair and sniffled. "Thank you." 

Dean blinked uncertainly over Sam's shoulder at Cas, wrapping his arms up around his brother, hesitantly confused. "Uhm, you're welcome?" 

Sam pulled back with a small smile, wiping at his eyes. Dean gave him a quick once over before letting his arms drop to his sides, raising a brow in question. "Should I bother asking?" 

Sam and Cas both shook their heads, causing Michael to let out a small snort of laughter as he dried off himself. "You guys are all sorts of weird." 

"You're just jealous." Cas retorted, with a playful smile, knowing it would help ease the mood. It felt like something Dean would say. And it earned him a laugh from both brothers. 

Dean slung his arms around Cas' shoulders, pulling him to his side and nuzzling his cheek. "I knew there was a reason i liked you."

"Yeah," He leaned in to Dean's ear and whispered softly, "It's cause I know how to fuck you into the mattress until you're wreathing for more." 

Dean's face turned an instant shade of red, his flush running down to his shoulders. "Hey now!" He squeaked. You can't say things like that when all I'm wearing are swim trunks." 

Cas just smirked and nibbled on Dean's ear lobe before pulling back. Clearing his throat he looked Dean over properly. "You're sunburned. I warned you."

"We all warned you." Sam input with a snicker, back to his normal self. 

"We did." Michael in put from the cooler. Dean just gaped at them indignantly, pouting at being ganged up on. 

"I-" He glared at them when he couldn't think of a good comeback, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not that bad." He huffed, tossing his towel at Cas for being the one to point it out, playfully walking away to grab something to drink. Cas couldn't help but smile at the ease of their banter, heart aching to know he was allowed in, allowed to be a part of their lives like this. Dean could easily just never trust anyone again, and shut him out, but instead he was opening himself up slowly to all of them. Even Michael had commented to him in passing how much of a difference his presence had made in his friendship with the brothers. Dean was letting more and more people in, and healing slowly. 

When they got home that night, Cas spent what was left of their weekend dragging Dean to the brink, backing down, carressing every inch he could as he adored the man beneath him on the bed, and demonstrating to the older male just how accurate that comment earlier had been. Watching Dean's face as he came across their chests was intoxicating, eyes fluttering, cheeks flushed, mouth open on a broken moan, the end of a plea of Cas' name. His fingers curled into Cas'' shoulders, legs quaking around Cas' hips, his body arched from the mattress as his toes curled and pressed Cas in deeper. His shoulders were flushed red; rubbed raw from sunburn and stubble burn, new freckles already forming from the sun's kiss. It made Cas smile to see his hickey's darkening the already abused skin. 

There was no going back. No way to stop loving Dean. Everything he learned, the more justified he felt in loving the selfless, wonderful man in his arms. He had no idea that the more he learned, the closer he got to seeing it all first hand.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no. You guys, oh no.

“Report?” The casual voice broke the silence of the room as the two guests waited by the door. Sitting at a desk by a large window, chair turned so the man was mostly facing the view rather than the interior of the room, was a man dressed in casual blue jeans and a grey button down shirt. His face was soft, lined with creases that never seemed to disappear, jaw and chin covered in a fine coat of bristling hairs that caught the light on the end of blond hairs. 

“Uriel’s recon confirmed our suspicions.” The smooth, sickly delighted voice purred the response as the man at the desk turned towards them. He cocked a brow up, indicating for the two men to come forward and take a seat with a flick of his fingers. The room was simple, yet luxurious, neat to the point of being almost sterile.

“So,” Turning, the man planted his elbows on the edge of the desk, smiling sweetly to the two seated men. “Our runaway has been found at last, huh?” On the desk was a photograph of two male figures, eyes locked and noses almost touching, lips parted on an inhale as if they were about to kiss.

“It seems Dean Winchester has attempted to make a life for himself. When I visited my nephew’s residence, it was clear to see the man refused to talk about his past, though he was forthcoming about his brother, Samuel. The younger brother is attending university with Michael. The two met Sam’s freshman year and have been rooming together for going on two years now. I was able to get into the apartment the night I visited on the pretense of drinking with my nephew, and drugged the older Winchester’s drink. Uriel was easily able to make it into the apartment and confirm the brand on his side. There is no doubt in my mind.” 

“Very good, Zachariah.” Purred the blond haired man, eyes turning slowly to the so far silent male besides Zachariah. The man’s eyes were hooded with pleasure, lips quirked up into a satisfied smirk. There was eager delight in those eyes as they lifted from the photograph to the man about to address him. “I can see you’re as delighted with the news as I thought you would be, Alastair.” 

“Oh course, sir.” His lips curled into a wider smile, the whites of his teeth showing bright as he grinned a cheshire cat grin. “Dean Winchester was…” He rolled his head a bit, clicked his tongue on his teeth and then settled back into his smile. “A favorite.” 

“It seems the Winchester brothers have rightly withheld any information about their time with us from others. They do not represent a threat to us.” The blond said, leaning back in his chair and folding his fingers into a steeple formation as he looked between the two men, expression serious. “As you’re aware, our resources are limited. I’ve already sacrificed a lot of time on confirming the identity of the Winchesters.” 

Alastair’s expression clouded with frustration and anger. “Are we to just let them go then? They did kill Azazel. We’ve spent more resources on lesser devils being stupid.” 

Grey eyes stared into brown, expression blank as he studied Alastair’s face. “What is it you propose, then?” He quirked a brow at the blood hungry male, pushing on purpose.

“I want him.” Alastair snarled suddenly, composing himself again with a quick clearing of his throat. “The older Winchester brother was always a favorite of mine. His...escape was most unfortunate. I want him to join my collection.” The memory of freckled skin, green eyes, and luscious pink lips still curled in his gut sometimes, fueling his anger at the teen’s escape. Well, he wouldn’t be a teen now, but based on that photograph, he’d only gotten lovelier. He wanted to work his blade into the broadened shoulders, wanted to lay into that muscled back with his whip, wanted to sink into his body at last and claim what he let get away. 

“So this is for personal reasons, then.” Standing up, the man in charge turned to his window again, tapping a single nail against the glass. “As I expected.” He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing to focus on something beyond the window. “Very well.” A sigh and a glance back to Alastair. “You can have the Winchester brother. But I want you to be careful, only the one. I don’t want a body count from this. You can have the Winchester if you take him yourself. I don’t want any other resources wasted on a personal matter like this. You should know the only reason I’m allowing this is because of your excellent services.” He turned and leaned over the desk with a dark glare. “Don’t make me regret this.” 

Alastair’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he nodded. “You know I’d never, Lucifer.” 

“You have two weeks. If you haven’t finished by then I’m pulling the plug. I can’t have my grand inquisitor distracted, after all.” 

\-----

Dean woke with a soft gasp, green flaring open to take in the low lighting of the apartment. He’d fallen asleep after work waiting for Castiel to return from his visit home. It was the university's spring break, and Castiel’s family had demanded him to come home for a few days. Somehow his overly religious mother had found out about his relationship with Dean. Dean had been unable to get off work for the week, as he was in the middle of doing interviews for new hires. It was Thursday afternoon, now, and apparently Dean had just woken up from a wet dream. 

Groaning, Dean slid a hand down his face. He wasn’t some damn teenager, he shouldn’t be waking up from wet dreams about his boyfriend just because it’d been a few days since he’d seen him. Sitting up hesitantly, he checked his phone, glancing to his lap. Castiel wouldn’t be home for at least three more hours, and he was hard as a rock from the dream he’d had; he could still feel Castiel’s lips all over his body, his hands curling around his form and teasing him to the edge.

Flopping down onto his back again, he kicked the sheets away from his legs, pushing his hand into his boxers and curling calloused fingers around his length. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he let his eyes close at the sensation, imagining ocean blue eyes on him, soft fingers brushing along his legs, stubble rubbing his thighs raw as teeth nipped and teased. 

“God, Cas…” He moaned low, twisting his wrist in a quick flick, precum already dribbling down his length, making his fingers sticky. Remembering the last time Castiel had been in the apartment, Dean couldn’t help but growl low as he imagined the weight of that heavy cock on his tongue, the taste on his lips, the slick slide down his throat. Dean would never tire of giving Castiel blowjobs. The feel of those fingers digging into his hair, the soft pants and whines he could draw from the other male were intoxicating. The wave of pleasure he got from knowing he could have this effect on Castiel, could make him feel that good...it was a validation everytime. He was doing that right, at the least. Shucking his boxers with a twist of his body, he curled to his side, on hand still pumping as he brought three fingers to his lips, sucking them like he imagined sucking Castiel, twisting his fingers between each knuckle to get himself properly wet. Letting his fingers drop from his mouth with a wet pop and a trail of saliva down his chin, he twisted his arm behind his back, curling in the first finger with a little whine. 

He didn’t do this often, touch himself like this. In fact, he rarely did. Before Cas he’d never really enjoyed it, the feel of something breaching him back that. Shadows of memories used to haunt him, but ignored the burn in his gut that was from more than just his building orgasm. He imagined that they were Cas’ fingers sliding into him like this, feeling the tightness, the heat, the texture of his body. He pushed deeper, letting out a throaty moan as he grazed that sweet spot inside. He retreat his finger and pushed back in with two this time, scissoring just slightly, caught up in the sensations, the thought of Castiel pressing into him. He was absolutely helpless, just knowing Cas would be home soon, doing this for him, would be whispering soft words that would burn to his core...it sent him over the edge before his third finger even pressed in. His orgasm ripped through him with a little shudder. 

Breathing heavily he stilled, heart pounding in his chest as he settled from the suddenness of his release, the slight ache in his wrist from the angle. He he slowly pulled his fingers free, groaning at the residual ache as he flopped onto his stomach slightly, knowing the bed was already a mess. With a small whine at his own helpless eagerness, he forced himself up, out of bed. He pulled the cover that had gotten soiled off and balled it up in the laundry for later, padding to the bathroom for a shower.

Standing under the heat of the water, Dean got lost in a blur of thoughts, for once mostly positive, despite the change in his sleep habits without Cas being there to curl against his side and lace his fingers into Dean’s as they slept. It’d been a rough few days without Cas there, or Michael or Sam for that matter. Sam was spending the break with his girlfriend, meeting her parents. Michael was home visiting his parents, too, hanging out with his younger cousin Adam, too. 

It had been weird spending all his time alone like this. Sure he had a few regulars at the coffee shop that had been kind enough to ask him how things were with everyone gone. Charlie and Kevin were both applying for positions at the coffee shop, and Dean was pleased to know that they were both forerunners for the spot right now. 

Feeling the hot water sluice over his face, Dean didn’t hear the bathroom door opening. His eyes were closed and the water was running past his ears in a gentle hum. He didn’t realize anything was wrong until suddenly the shower curtain was being pulled open behind him and an arm reached in to quickly jab a needle into his neck.

With a gasp, Dean jerked away, twisting under the spray to face the assailant as he pressed a hand to his neck at the sting of pain it caused, his face paling as he saw the man staring in at him, cheshire cat grin already in place.

“No…” He whispered out, helplessness flooding him.

“Hello again, Dean.” Alastair purred, eyes purposefully sliding down the wet body in front of him, taking in the way the Winchester boy had grown. Those green eyes were still bright and defiant, his jaw squarer, covered in a fine layer of golden hairs. Mature. Alastair liked it, more than he thought he would. He could still see the boyish fright in that face, the curl of embarrassment at being naked, the terror as realization washed over him. 

“No.” Dean snarled, pressing himself into the wet tiles behind him desperate for distance between them. There was no easy way to get out. The shower was still running, and Alastair blocked the way to the door. He was naked, completely and fully, and cold eyes that haunted his dreams were staring at him with a pleased shimmer. Shakily turning off the water, Dean felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and groaned as an aching heat coursed through his neck to his shoulders. “What did you do?” He groaned, clutching at his neck over the prick mark.

“Just a mild drug to make you more...pliable.” Alastair chuckled, grabbing the towel besides the shower and handing it to the younger male. “Now, why don’t you dry off and get yourself ready, huh? I’ve got plans for us.” 

Dean grabbed the towel angrily, wrapping it around his waist quickly, hiding himself from view. He wavered at his own movements, glancing from Alastair to the door, trying to calculate his chances in getting away. His vision was blurring, and his phone was in the other room on the bed still, gun under the mattress, knife under his pillow. He needed to get out there, call for help, get to his knife at least. 

“Dean.” Alastair growled, stepping closer and leaning a ways over the tub edge to get into Dean’s personal space. “Don’t make me ask twice.” He said, grabbing one of Dean’s wrists and tugging him forward a ways, catching him so he wouldn’t slip on the slick surface under his feet by wrapping strong arms around Dean’s middle and pulling him into his chest. “You know how I dislike repeating myself.” He breathed into the shell of Dean’s wet ear. 

Dean’s shiver didn’t go unnoticed as Alastair manhandled Dean out of the tub, guiding the stumbling man to sit on the toilet, fingers curling into his neck with bruising force as he forced Dean to look up at him. “I want you to listen carefully, boy.” He dug nails into Dean’s scalp, forcing wavering green eyes on to his narrow face. “You’re mine.” He purred in delight. “And I’m taking back what belongs to me. Now, I want you to dry off while you’re still conscious. Put on these clothes.” He pushed a small pile of fabric into Dean’s arms. “And then we can get going, alright?” 

Dean’s brow furrowed as he glared up at the man of his nightmares. His body was starting to ache all over, vision refusing to focus. “Fuck you.” He hissed, pushing at Alastair’s chest hard with the strength he had, jerking up on to weak legs, stumbling for the door. He didn’t make it though, as Alastair grabbed him by his upper arm and slammed him into the wood of the door instead, pressing up against his back fully. 

“No, Dean.” He cooed into the dazed male’s ear, licking at the shell of his ear. “That’s for later. Don’t worry, though. We’ll have plenty of time for that once I get you back to mine and all settled in.” He ground his hips into Dean’s backside, the faint bulge of an erection pushed into the curve of his ass as fingers toyed with the edge of the towel around his waist. White hot fear curled in Dean’s veins, making his chest ache, his heart hammer. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. “Stop fighting. You know it’s useless.” He chuckled, pulling Dean back and around, shoving him down onto the toilet seat once more. “Now get dressed.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: GRAPHIC TORTURE. SLIGHT NON-CON. TRIGGER WARNINGS. THAT WHOLE NONSENSE. A whole lot of Alastair. If you don't wanna read, I've put a summary at the end in the notes. We'll touch base with Castiel and Sam's side of things next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this out. Finally get to give you a taste of Alastair's real potential. I'm hungry for comments on this chapter. Let me know what yal think, good or bad. Is it too over the top? Want more? Who thinks Cas is freaking the fuck out? And can anyone guess the big surprise that will be waiting in the coming chapters?

Waking with a groan, Dean’s head spun as he tried to reign in the urge to vomit, his stomach rolling nastily as he swayed. It was the feeling of tightness, restriction around his arms from wrist to elbow that made him fight down the burn in his throat.

Trapped.

His head pulsed, waves of energy seeming to resound in his skull. The pain radiated from a spot on the back of his neck up through tense muscles. His temples throbbed and he had a fleeting mental image of golden electrical waves crashing back and forth between the two sides like ocean tides. He felt sea sick. 

The darkness was the next thing he noticed, eyes peeling open like sandpaper over the delicate orbs. He bit back a groan at the rough feel, peering out through the ends of his eyelashes to try to see where he was. The darkness was almost complete around him. There was a faint glow from one side, a thin line of light outline the cracks of a door and a lit up hallway beyond. Beside that, there was nothing. He could hardly see his own legs folded beneath him. 

Closing his eyes to spare himself the headache that came from trying to open them, he tilted his head back slightly, feeling the strain of of his shoulders and neck at the movement. His arms were wrapped tight, in what he assumed was a rope of some sort. He couldn’t tell what material it was beyond the pulsing feel of circulation struggling to reach his hands which were hooked above his head. The blood draining away from them sent prickles of sharp pain through his fingertips as he tried to move them, to test their range. He had to bite down hard on his lower lip to fight the groan of agony. This was nothing, though. 

Shoving thoughts about how he’d gotten here and the horrific memories of years past from his mind, Dean tried to focus on cataloging himself. Rolling his shoulders stiffly, to test them he groan aloud as a sudden firey burn coursed through his muscles and tendons. 

“ _Fuck_.” He hissed. 

Left shoulder was dislocated then. He vaguely remembered that happening. He’d been so drugged out at that point that it had been hard to think, let alone move. He’d tried to body slam Alastair when he led him out of the bathroom. He’d almost made it to the bed when Alastair had kicked his ankle out. He’d crashed into the side of the nightstand with a harsh crunch. He could feel the resulting bruise down the side of his back, and the way his shoulder sat just slightly out of socket. Breathing harshly through his nose, Dean catalogued the fact that his ankles ached horribly as well. Not surprising. His knees protested kneeling, but his feet were trapped tucked under his sagging body weight, fastened together by more rope. His right ankle ached just a hint more to remind Dean of that monster’s kick. Luckily it didn’t feel broken, or dislocated. The worse was probably just some bruising. The damage had been taken in the fall, rather than the attack. 

Shaking, Dean felt goosebumps pebble his arms and chest. He was naked from the waist up, and the thin material of cotton pants did nothing to reassure Dean of their permanence. He ached all over, body straining against the tight binds and uncomfortable position. His head pulsed, and he wondered vaguely if he’d hit his head on the lunge for the bed. 

Oh god, Sam.

_Cas._

Panic washed through Dean and he jerked bodily as his eyes flailed open. No. No. No. Fuck. He looked around anxiously, agitating himself in the sudden panic building up inside of him. No. He had people waiting for him, people that cared for him, loved him, would miss him. He couldn’t go through this again. No. He was just starting to feel safer, starting to let himself forget. Cas had been filling in the holes in his sole with love and understanding and patience, and Dean couldn’t lose that, couldn’t stand the thought of Alastair digging into his mind and finding Castiel in his cracks and tearing his light away. HIs chest felt tight, and his air came in struggling gasps as the panic washed over him. He felt light headed and clammy.

Struggling to calm himself back down, Dean sucked in sharp, staggering breaths, trying to even himself out before he made things worse for himself. His aborted struggling movements were just going to irritated everything, make it hurt more. 

It took him a while to calm down, and once he had he sank into an exhausted daze, flitting in and out of sleep. Hours seemed to pass, and Dean woke, tried not to panic, and slept exhausted. He had no concept of time when he was finally approached, the door opening no long after he woke up from a fitful dream. The light burned into his eyes, and he groaned at the sudden intense stimulus assaulting his sense. Ducking his head into his arm, he shut his eyes against the light and the figuring approaching. He knew who it was anyways. 

“Ah, I’ve missed this.” Alastairs dreamy, delighted sigh sent tension shooting through Dean’s stressed form, making him lock up and bite back a groan at the way his body twitched from the sudden movement 

“You always did look so pretty just trussed up and miserable like this.” He stepped into the room, flicking a switch that flooded the interior with a blindingly bright white light. It burned through Dean’s eye lids even where they were pressed into his arm. The door clicking shut and being locked sent panic through Dean. He clenched his jaw hard, refusing to look up, refusing to let Alastair win.

“You know, I was quite impressed when I heard what you’d done.” Alastair cooed, suddenly right in front of Dean’s form, fingers darting in ticklish imitations up Dean’s ribs and around his back to his shoulder blades, fingers digging into the bones. 

Black dots registered in Dean’s mind before the pain did, as his eyes snapped open and he let out a ragged gasp into the meat of his right arm. Alastair was kneeling in front of his, practically straddling Dean’s knees so he could get closer and closer. His arms were curled around Dean in a mock of a hug as he tucked his head into the tender flesh of Dean’s neck, bristling beard scraping the open expanse of unmarked skin as his lips went to Dean’s ear. 

“Oh, I love it when you do this. Fight the pain, try to keep that pretty, pretty voice tucked away from me.” He purred, scraping his beard roughly against the tender skin as his fingers curled, making massaging motions in the bruised skin of Dean’s back. It sent sparks along the tender nerve endings, bruising deeper into skin as they pressed harder and harder, digging specifically into the tender meat of Dean’s left shoulder, agitating the dislocation. “I love watching that struggle, the crumbling walls in your eyes...and I love hearing you sing.” He purred, biting now at the tender inner flesh of Dean’s left arm, nipping and leaving little purpling red marks. “Will you sing for me, Dean? It’s been soooooo long.” He pressed in closer, pushing his chest flush to Dean’s as he straddled numb legs. He forced Dean’s back straight, pulling him into his chest so he was engulfed with the warmth of another man, stressed by the weight of a body sitting on already pulsing legs. Dean had almost forgotten how Alastair could get like this, could use intimacy and contacts to further the extent of his torture as he played with the body of his victim. 

“Sing for me Dean.” He coed, rocking gently into Dean’s lap, grinding a noticeable hardon into Dean’s stomach. “Let me hear the pretty cat’s cry.” He licked at Dean’s neck, biting at it as he encouraged Dean to give in. 

Getting no response from Dean besides the agonized tremors of his body, Alastair pulled back suddenly, all contact gone. Dean couldn’t help the gasp of relief that flooded him, even though he knew more pain was coming. Enable to stop himself, a little sob of relief escaped him as his jaw loosened and the pain dulled to a pulse of residual ache. 

Before he could collect himself, his jaw was being grabbed, jerked forward and up to face the illuminated face of his captor standing now in front of Dean. “Still stubborn, I see.” He hooked a thumb into Dean’s mouth suddenly, between his teeth before he could clench them closed. “I have a gift for you, to help you get used to things again.” 

__Dean drew on his limited strength to glare up at the man, growling low in his throat. Alastair’s gifts were always their own kind of punishment. Alastair’s free hand disappeared behind his back. Returning, Dean saw the black strap and the rounded red ball and terror flooded him._ _

__Snarling, Dean thrashed against Alastair’s grip, twisting away from him as much as he could._ _

__“No!” He screamed as Alastair grabbed his hair, tugging it sharply as he brought the ball up to Dean’s now clamped shut mouth. He seethed, nostrils flaring as he tried to back away from the gag and the grip on his head. His mobility was so limited though, he had no choice. Alastair tried ramming the ball of plastic past his lips, but Dean held fast, breathing raggedly through his nose as he kept his jaw clamped shut as tight as he could. No way. No. No. No._ _

__“Dean.” Alastair said his name warningly, trying to coax him to open up. “You didn’t sing for me earlier. You have to learn your lesson.” He tisked at the bound man, smiling bigger at the panicked look in Dean’s eyes. “If you don’t want a voice, you won’t get one.” He let got of Dean’s hair suddenly to clamp two fingers tight over his nose, cutting off his air. “Don’t test my patience, Dean.” He warned in a sing song voice._ _

__Dean tried, he really tried, sucking in sharp barely there breaths through his clenched teeth, feeling the gag pressing against the rows of his teeth, pursing his lips already._ _

__“Open up, Dean. Let me see those cock loving lips of yours stretch out.” Alastair snarled, startling Dean by letting go all of the sudden, retreating the gag and slapping him hard across the face. Dazed, Dean swayed in his spot, mouth going lax. He barely got a second to comprehend what had just happened before the hard plastic was being shoved past his lips, stretching his mouth open, digging in until it settled behind Dean’s teeth, the black straps quickly being buckled in place with a quick snap behind Dean’s head._ _

__Humiliation washed through Dean, and he twisted in despair, rubbing the corners of his mouth frantically on his arms and shoulders trying to dislodge the gag. Letting Dean flail, Alastair took a step back and away, admiring his handiwork and the display this older version of Dean made._ _

__He stood in silence as his eyes raked down the slightly tanned skin, admiring the heavy cluster of freckles across his shoulders and upper arms, the dusting under his vibrant green eyes. Yes, Dean’s eyes were one of Alastair’s favorites. They were so very expressive. Those golden brown lashes curled around them like a bitches, framing the emotions that Alastair would soon break from him. His eyes trailed down the muscled chest, the subtlety defined V of muscle near his hips, the golden trail of hair that traveled below his cotton pants. Oh yes, and he couldn’t forget how lovely Dean had been in all his naked, wet glory. The image of him dripping and snarling was enough to fuel fantasies for days, and Alastair couldn’t wait until he’d made Dean a bit more pliable to further explore some fun water play with him._ _

__First thing was first, though. He had to punish Dean for what he’d done. For running._ _

__Stepping forward again, Alastair knelt across Dean’s legs again, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back so he could admire the boyish look in those eyes as he whimpered despite himself, the sound muffled by the gag. Dean’s pretty, pretty pink lips all plump and plush stretch just absolutely obscenely around the red of the plastic. Alastair groaned low in his throat, grinding into Dean’s belly with his erection once more as he leaned down, whispering hot breath across the ball gag._ _

__“Don’t worry, Dean.” He purred, licking his lips. “We’ll take it nice and slow. Break you back into things. And then we’ll get to the fun part.” He panted slightly against Dean’s face, rocking his hips more aggressively against Dean’s chest._ _

__“We’ll put that little faggot’s dick training to use.” He snarled, biting at Dean’s bottom lip. “Little slut stole what shoulda been mine.” He wrapped one arm around Dean’s back and gripped his lower back tight, blunt nails bruising finger shapes into his muscles for later as he used the slight leverage to thrust against Dean’s chest, finding purchase on the ridge of his ribs._ _

__“Was gonna claim you back then, you know.” He laughed, seeing the horror and anger crash over Dean with each word. “Had it all planned, was ready to start training you to take my big, fat cock.” He rocked forward and up a little, standing as he slide his jean clad length up Dean’s chest, under his neck and over his lips. He pressed the weight of the hidden length to those stretched lips, rocking against the gag once. “I’d had you taking my fingers like such a good boy, but then you had to go and run away.” He sighed, forcing Dean’s head back so his neck was exposed and his head was forced as far back as it’d go, stretching his neck. Alastair rocked his hips along the smooth expanse of skin, smiling at the hitch of panic in Dean’s breathing as the weight thrust against him, rhythmically cutting off his air and then letting it back in. “Slit Azazel’s throat.” He laughed harshly, the sound echoing in the air._ _

__Suddenly he was back in Dean’s lap, rocking against his belly as one hand slide down to undo his zipper. “Such a good boy.” He purred, biting a ring of red around Dean’s still straining neck. “I’m so proud of you.” He grazed his teeth over Dean’s adam’s apple as he pulled himself from his jeans, Dean unrealizing. “I saw the footage, you know.” He chuckled low against the shamed whine that was pulled from Dean. “You did good.” He let go of Dean’s hair to pet at his cheeks, now slick with salty tears and the littlest bit of drool. “You did good, Dean-o.” He purred, using his other hand to jerk himself the rest of the way to the edge, standing up just slightly and splashing his cum across Dean’s throat with a heavy moan of pleasure._ _

__With a single harsh press of lips to Dean’s jaw, and a flick of fingers over Dean’s puffy bottom lip, he straightened up and turned to go, leaving Dean hanging there with a collar of bruises and cum dripping down his chest. Unconscious._ _

__A salute to the last time Dean had been trapped in Hell._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of Chapter:  
> Dean wakes up, realizes he's bound and injured. He's locked in a room with no light for a nonspecified number of hours until Alastair comes in and starts fucking with him. He fucks with Dean's dislocated shoulder and then gags him when he refuses to scream in pain, denying him a voice completely. After gagging him, Alastair starts rutting on Dean and verbally torturing him by bringing up the past, saying he'd been planning to rape Dean back then and praising him for killing Azazel. Rude dick insults Cas. So rude. Then he jacks off across Dean's neck and leaves his cum there as a salute to how Dean slit Azazel's throat the last time.


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel paced. There really wasn't anything else he could do. His nerves were on edge, his eyes hurt from the crying he would deny doing, and his chest felt like a pit of agony knowing Dean was gone. He twisted his fingers in the edge of his jacket, feet carrying him to the edge of the deck and then to the other, eyes scanning the road impatiently for Gabriel to get here.

Sam let out an exhausted sigh, sitting on the deck chair with a glass of water in one hand, the other holding up his head, as if it was too heavy for Sam's neck. His eyes were haunted, his features pale and worn, clouded with memories. Unfocused on the world around him. He was doing no better than Castiel. 

It'd been two full days now. Two. On the third and still no word from the police. And there was nothing they could do. Dean was gone and all they could do was sit there and pray that the police knew how to do their job, knew how to get him back, knew what they were up against. Anger and frustration twisted in Castiel's guts at the thought that wedged its way to the forefront of his thoughts every time: They couldn't find him. The police had no clue where to look, where to start. He hated not trusting the police, but he had a bone deep feeling that they had no clue how to deal with this kind of situation. They maybe had a name to go off of, and nothing more of use. Dean's room had left barely any clues. A small patch of Dean's blood on the nightstand edge, sheets pulled to the edge of the mattress by a grasping hand, a discarded towel on the wet floor of the bathroom. And the needle. 

Cas shivered and sat down heavily next to Sam as the awful feeling of helplessness fell over him again. 

"How're you holding up?" Sam's tired voice asked with a rough grate to it. Neither of them had slept more than a few hours each since they'd found out. Sam and Jess had driven back that night after Castiel found the scene in the apartment. They'd been staying at Sam's since, waiting for Michael to return back from his break and find the news. He'd not responded to their texts, perhaps out of signal range. 

Castiel scoffed, staring down at his feet. "I feel helpless. Every image in my head is of...of D-dean just...." His voice wavered and he pressed his knuckles into his eyes. Breathing deep for a moment Cas turned slowly towards Sam. "How can you stand it?" He whispered, eyes prickling with tears as he looked at Sam's war torn face. "Knowing what it was like before..." 

Sam's lips twisted in a lifeless smile. "It's hell." He said with a dull laugh, eyes darting to the driveway as a car pulled up, his lips falling to a flat line again.   
Castiel's eyes darted to the car instantly, making no immediate move to get up. His mental energy was sapped, and he knew Gabriel wouldn't care if he was a boneless heap on the chair right now. Gabriel may not know Dean as well, but when they'd talked on the phone it was obvious the other male was concerned, but also numbed. When Castiel had mentioned the name of the gang, Gabriel's tone had changed, his responses stunted with a sort of faraway distraction. 

Castiel hadn't talked to him about the article yet. He'd been so busy and Gabriel had his own job and life to deal with that it'd gone undiscussed. Well, now Castiel had a chance. Gabriel waved at them, that same sort of haunted look in his eyes that Sam held. 

"Hey." Gabriel sighed. 

Sam flicked up his hand in greeting, sighing out a small breath as Castiel offered a quiet "hi" in response. Gabriel settled into the final chair on the porch. He looked tired, hesitant, oddly reserved. It felt wrong seeing the ever energetic Gabriel sitting there in silence. 

Castiel rubbed at his eyes, elbows on his knees as he tried to prepare himself for this conversation. 

"Gabe..." Cas sighed out, looking up at him with soft eyes. "When..." He glanced over to Sam, knowing Sam wasn't really sure what Castiel had wanted to talk about. "When Dean was younger, he and Sam were sold to the Lucifer Gang." He breathed in a tired voice. "They were there for two years. And Dean was branded one of theirs. A few weeks ago Dean got sick, had a weird dream about that brand. He told me about the Lucifer Gang, about Alistair and Azazel." He pinched at the bridge of his nose again, looking to his hands as he folded his fingers together in front of his knees. "I found an article, while Dean slept. I had a name finally, something to really look up. T-the, uh, the article was about a cop that was undercover. He'd disappeared for an, uhm...for a w-week after infiltrating the gang, nothing to track, no word from the inside. He was found after the cops got an anonymous tip about a murder on location. Someone had slit Azazel Yed's throat, one of the main trainers." 

Gabriel and Sam stared at Castiel, exchanging hesitant looks. There was a weird tension in the air between them, from Gabriel's secrets, fom Sam's confusion at the story, and from the conversation subject in general. 

"The uh, the anonymous tipper was Dean." Cas glanced to Sam, and then turned to Gabriel. "And the cop was you." 

Sam turned startled eyes to Gabriel, mouth hanging open as his arms fell limply from the edges of the chair. "What." 

Gabriel covered his eyes with his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes, sighing out a shaky breath. "Fuck." He whispered out. "This can not be our life." 

Sam sat up straighter, leaning towards Gabriel. "You were there..." His voice croaked out, dying on the words of shared horror. "Jesus christ..." 

Gabriel licked his lips, rubbing his eyes in mimic of Castiel minutes before. "Jesus Christ had nothing to do with that place. Fuckin' hell..." Gabriel ran his hands through his hair. "It was Dean? Honest to god, Dean Winchester?" 

"Yeah." Sam and Cas sighed out. 

"How did we even..." He shook his head. "Fucking hell." He pressed his face into his hands again. Understanding washing over him. Imagining two years instead of a week. Imagining two brothers instead of one cop. Imagining the slice of a blade to the neck of that man; the sheer thrill of the thought almost horrifying to Gabriel as he realized he would never see Dean differently for what he'd done. If he'd had the chance he'd have done the same thing. But they were there, together. He'd heard whispers of them in the darkness of the cell and the echoes of the pain one of them endured. Gabriel felt sick, imagining his friends now as those voices, those echoes of tortured memories. Imagining his own little brother's boyfriend strung up in that awful place. 

"I never knew." Castiel whispered out, watching his half brother. Gabriel was his best friend growing up. "You went to work after the academy, and I was still so young. No one ever said anything about it...never told me why you suddenly had a desk job instead of being in the field.." Cas bit his bottom lip as his eyes difted away from Gabriel's . "I saw the differences, and I never asked anything. I didn't think..." He threw his eyes to the sky as he fought off the feeling of shame that burned through him. "I thought you were just tired of your stupid kid half-brother...you'd grown up and you were working, out of school...I never thought." 

"Shit, Cas." Gabriel leaned forward and grabbed Castiel's hands in one of his, patting his brother's cheek softly as he wiped a tear from Castiel's cheek as it slid free. "You're my brother. I'd never grow tired of you. Shit." He offered a weak smile, leaning over to rest their foreheads together for a moment, face falling into a sad set of his lips as he looked in to Cas' innocent blue eyes. "I just couldn't talk about it. I couldn't let you know about that awful place. It was my job to keep you out of that. Keep you safe. Innocent." 

"Dean did the same thing...for me." Sam spoke up, resting a hand over their combined ones on Cas' knee. "It's what big brothers do, I guess." He offered with a small smile.

Castiel wiped angrily at his eyes with his free hand, looking to Sam with stormy blue eyes, glassy with tears. "Fuck, Sam." He reached for the taller male, pulling him into a desperate hug for both their sakes. "We need to get him back. There has to be a way. There has to be. I-I promised him. Promised not to let him fall, not to let him burn again. I promised." 

"Shh." Sam hushed softly, tucking Castiel close to his side, head under his chin as he looked across to Gabriel, saw the conviction and understanding behind those eyes. He knew what kind of horrors were waiting for Dean, how much damage could be done in a single day. "We'll think of something." 

"Maybe I can help..." Gabriel offered, thumb working gently over Cas' knuckles. "I infiltrated them once. They're burned in here." He tapped the side of his head. "Maybe with what you know we can put my skills to work. We can find Dean. I may have a desk job, but I'm still a cop." 

Sam nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to Cas' temple, leaning back from him, and wiping his friend's cheeks dry. "Hear that?" He smiled weakly, trying to look hopeful. "We'll get him back. What kind of future lawyer would I be if I couldn't even find information on my own brother? Let's go inside. We can make some coffee and start writing shit out, compile our information. Figure out the most likely possibilities to where he could be." 

Castiel sniffed and nodded, sitting back to compose himself, looking up to Gabriel with an ache in his heart. God, he was so scared for Dean, so exhausted with this feeling of guilt that washed over him as he looked back on the past, and how his own family had been affected. He couldn't turn a blind eye to it now. He couldn't sit back and let his new family get hurt. He had to do something, had to be there for Dean. He'd failed once before with someone he loved, he couldn't do it again with Dean. Not when Dean had the kind of heart and mind that he did. He was righteous, and loving, and so fragile because of his kindness after everything that had happened to him. His face may be pierced and his attitude sassily macho but beneath the outer layers he was a soft hearted man with horrors that shaped the way he protected his family, loved whole heartedly, and saw himself as undeserving. Dean's core was this damaged thing, childlike and scared, desperate for the love of a family that had deserted him and died. Traumatised. 

Castiel nodded, suddenly serious, forcing away the tears and grounding himself. He had to pull himself together, prepare himself for the worst. He had to be able to sit through discussion of the possibilities of what could be done to Dean and not try to claw his heart out from his chest because of his own chilklike despair at the notion of his friend being taken away forever. He needed to be stronger than that. He was Dean's angel. And he would be. He'd promised Dean. He'd shape himself after the strength of the archangel's, the might of God behind their wings, the blind faith they had towards their father. Blind faith Cas had in Dean being worth everything. He wouldn't sit back and be a cupid. He was already in love, had his heart bound to anoher. He would not be the docile, feeble cupid of an angel. He'd be a soldier of God. A soldier for Dean. 

"We have to find him." He said fiercely. "I made him a promise. I won't let him burn alone. I won't let Hell claim him. I won't." He stood up, furious at the notion of Alastair trying to claim something too pure for his hands. "He's mine." He snarled.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of past abuse, shitty John Winchester mentioned, and some more Dean torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can thank the shit ton of work that I have to do for these chapters. I always have my best writing stints when I don't have the time to really write. xD Well guess what? I made time. Mwuahaha. Enjoy.

Castiel wanted to scream. The police had gotten no where, no where!, and even with a little more information from Gabriel and Sam’s combined experiences they were clueless where to look. Maybe Chicago, maybe New York, maybe across the fucking ocean for all they knew. Castiel had just gotten done talking with one of the main investigators and was furious. They were practically giving up. They had nothing to go on, no clues where to start, no understanding of the extreme horrors that Alastair could be playing out on Dean’s skin every minute they wasted. But to them Dean was one person. One out of thousands that they had to deal with, one out of many that they couldn’t care about as much as Castiel needed them too. Dean didn’t matter to them. All Castiel could see was red. He was so damn angry, so tired and so god damn frightened it literally made him feel sick. 

“Cas…” Sam set his cup of coffee down on the table in front of them, books for school strewn across the surface in an attempt to keep life in order with the gaping hole in their lives. Dean’s absence was like a void that they all gravitated towards and were swallowed in to. Michael seemed to float around aimlessly in the apartment, at work, trying to keep his own life together. He had taken over Dean’s tasks at the coffee shop, hiring on Charlie and Kevin based on Dean’s notes on the interviews. He wasn’t qualified enough to do the other interviews that had gone unfinished, and so had been told to review Dean’s notes and hire the two best candidates. Charlie and Kevin filled in the gapes of schedule that Dean usually took, their presence odd and unnatural behind the counter in Dean’s space. They asked where he was, what happened, if everything was okay. They could see the changes, feel that gaping hole Dean left behind, but Castiel and Michael couldn’t talk about it. They gave them vague details and let them make their own assumptions. If they needed to they would tell them later: depending on the news...on how long it took. It had already been nearly three weeks. Another day and it’d be there exactly. 

Castiel felt like he was floundering, drowning on air. He couldn’t go near Dean’s room at the apartment without seeing the remnants of the struggle he’d come home and found. Couldn’t breath in that space without seeing the man that was missing. He could barely stand going to the coffee shop, but he felt a weird sense of obligation fill his heart every time he thought about it. He would go, step inside, and then find himself staring helplessly at the table they always shared, occupied now with other customers who had taken up root there when it went unclaimed. Michael was hardly ever there, his schedule hectic as always, and the new faces were only pitying, worrying, and unfamiliar in that space. He’d been staying at his own apartment, the space cold and empty feeling. He’d been planning to move in with Dean completely, and was nearly living full time with the other man until now. He couldn’t face Michael everyday, though, coming back to that space that was his and Dean’s without Dean being there. He spent most of his time not in class at Sam and Jessica’s place. It was easier here, without the obviousness of Dean’s void. It was easier to breath without memories of his scent on every surface, in every corner. It was easier to breath without reminders everywhere he looked. He had taken to avoiding the pictures Sam had hung up, avoided the things he knew Dean had given Sam. The memories were too sharp, to brittle, ready to crack into thousands of pieces. Broken. Castiel felt like he was falling, and he didn’t have the strength to fly away, to find a sure footing and take refuge from the storm in his mind. 

He looked up from the book in front of him, trying to force himself to get through the paragraphs for class. His life hadn’t just stopped because Dean was gone, and it terrified him that there was a very real possibility that this could be it. This could very well be the life he had to live for the rest of his life. Dean. Gone. He had to remind himself over and over to keep going, to try at least. Try for Dean, because of Dean, in the hope that he could show Dean he’d stayed strong for him. Even if his grades floundered, he could still make it through school. He had to, for himself and Dean. Forcing himself through the motions was the only thing keeping him together right now. Those first few days before classes started again had been like sitting in a fog. He’d been helpless to do anything, unable to help, unable to comprehend. If Sam hadn’t been there he didn’t know what he would have done. He’d felt lifeless, ghost like, foreign in his own skin.

“Yeah?”

“I…” Sam ran his large hands through his mane of hair, eyes looking suddenly angry, sharp, frustrated, the storm after the week of grey clouds. “I have to do something. Something I don’t know if I can do alone. And I...I need you to not judge, to not…” He trailed off. “I think…” He cleared his throat. “I think I know how to find Dean.”

Castiel sat upright instantly, eyes alert and focused. Suspicious. Why hadn’t Sam said anything before? What kind of solution could make Sam’s face look so angry and ugly with the thoughts in his eyes. “Okay.” He said hesitantly. He trusted Sam, would hear him out. What other options did they have? 

“It’s…” Sam sighed heavily, eyes turning to the ceiling before settling on Castiel’s expression, his own twisted in a mix of shame and anger and fear. “Dean and I lied to you.”

Castiel blinked at him, mind buzzing through every conversation between the brothers suddenly, trying to figure out the lie before it was revealed. He drew a blank, and stared at Sam questioningly instead. 

“Our dad isn’t dead.” He breathed out on a shaky breath, like the thought of this man held the weight of the world to it. “He’s in prison. For...for a lot of things.” 

Castiel’s body hummed with instant tension, mind whirling suddenly to life with a hailstorm of thoughts and worries and fears. “What…” He swallowed down a lump in this throat, biting out words in a raspy tone. “What did he do?” He demanded, trying to piece together the puzzle, trying to create a space in his mind to accommodate the possibility of John Winchester in his life. In Dean’s. He needed to know, couldn’t stand the lie of it. He couldn’t stand not knowing this when he didn’t know so much already. Their lives were this vast expanse of memory and experience and horror and Castiel could barely even comprehend the surface of it. He needed the truth, and Sam read it in his eyes.

Sam laughed humorlessly, cradling his coffee cup in his hands, staring into the dark pool of bitter liquid with a scowl. “When he went on trial...he was…” Sam glanced to the wall and then back to the cup, trying to wrangle his thoughts into coherent sentences as he fought down the anger in his blood. “He was convicted of uhm, of...drug possession and trafficking, seventeen counts of credit card fraud, six counts of aggravated assault, two counts of second degree murder, five counts of aiding and abetting robberies, disorderly conduct, bribery, driving under the influence, public intoxication, child abandonment and…” He licked dry lips, voice whispering away as he looked at his own hands. “...child abuse.” 

Castiel sat in stunned silence, staring at Sam with his mouth hanging open. His mind had come to a screeching halt, and he couldn’t form coherent thoughts as he stared at his friend. His mind painted this horrible picture of their father looming over two frightened children, small and huddled together trying to find sanity in each other. “Why are you…” 

Sam stood up suddenly, pacing the room with long strides, running his fingers over and over through his hair as the anxiety and tension built within him more and more, ready to explode. “Shit, Cas.” He breathed, wiping at his eyes at the sting of tears. “Everything he did, every shitty motel he made us grow up in, every shitty excuse and promise…” He shook his head, hands fisting and shaking at his side. “He was lost. He was depressed and probably suicidal and Dean and I were too young to understand. And fuck. He drank like he was drowning, like he couldn’t live without the burn. Sometimes he would get in these moods,...these awful, awful moods where he’d just...everything just built up and up and up and he’d snap...he’d look at Dean and all he could see was our Mom’s face. He looks just like her, same eyes, same smile, same heart. And he’d just beat the shit out of Dean.” His voice shook from his lungs in a pathetic lungfuls, eyes tearing up as he fought back the sobs wanting to tear him open. 

“And I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t stop drinking, why he let himself get that bad. We were so little back then. So goddamn naive and defenseless and helpless. But he loved us. He did, he loved us to death. He’d always break down crying after he hurt Dean, always crack from the weight of it. And Dean, Dean would always forgive him, always curl up in Dad’s arms afterwards and tell him it was okay even if he was bloody from it. He never blamed Dad, looked up to him. I hate him for it, god I hate them both for it so damn much. How can what he did be okay? How can I forgive him for hurting my brother like that? For pretending it’d be okay after? He was blinded by drugs and alcohol and once he started trying to make things better for us they just got worse. He got so in debt to the Lucifer Gang, got into so much trouble...and he sold us. He gave us up because he was stoned out of his mind, and trapped and they would have just killed us all otherwise.” Sam’s broad shoulder shook as he stopped moving, everything crashing over him all at once, trying to spill out of him with his tears. “But he loved us. Cas, he did. He really did, but he was a soldier, a widow and he was lost after mom. He thought he was giving us a better life, a better chance. I’d been begging him for so long to stop moving around, to stop putting me and Dean in danger. I just wanted to go to school, man. I was so mad at him all the time. I just...and I wanted Dean to go to school again, to stop working shitty jobs and hustling pool and coming home bruised from bar fights. Dad had no idea, no clue what they’d do to us...we were happy for a while. Two months of nothing, just some physical training, some extra schooling. We got to have our own bedrooms, our own space, We didn’t have to live in a shitty motel room any more, or a moldly apartment with rats. But it turned to shit. All of it, and Dad didn’t know. Honest to god. He tried to get us out, tried to bargain and it just made it worse. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it, to stop them from using Dean’s desperate need to keep his family safe. Couldn’t stop them from h-hurting him. And now he’s gone, again, and I c-can’t do a-anything for him, and I’m u-useless and stupid and I’m safe. And I h-hate it, Cas. I hate being safe when I know, really know, that he’s not. And he’s not going to be unless I-I can d-do something but I’m s-scared, Cas. I-I’m scared i’m going to be t-too late...that it won’t be enough...that I’m going to l-lose him for good this time.” 

Castiel lurched from his chair and grabbed Sam around the shoulders, dragging him into a tight hug as he tried to sooth his back, letting Sam sob against his shoulder. He didn’t care if it was awkward, if Sam was too tall to be hunching down to find support in him. Sam was like family, like a brother, and seeing him so torn up was worse than anything. He whispered soft words of nonsense and understanding into his hair, rubbing his back in small circles as the younger Winchester trembled on each breath. He didn’t know how to make any of it better, how to stay strong when they were both cracking under the weight of it. He shoved away the mental images, the new information, the horrible thoughts filling his mind. He cradled Sam close and took on the weight of his suffering with each stroke of his hand across his back.

It took a several long minutes for him to calm down, hiccuping on a sob as he choked out words against Castiel’s neck. “Dad can find Dean. I-I know he can. He’s a hunter through and through. A soldier. He can find Dean. I just…” He stood up straight, giving space between himself and Cas with a twisted smile that torn Castiel’s heart apart a little more. “I just have to figure out how I can face him...how I can tell him it’s happening again.” He sniffled wetly, wiping at his nose. “I have to f-figure out how to look at his face again and trust him to make it better when all he’s ever done is make it worse.” 

“It’s okay, Sam.” Cas rubbed Sam’s shoulder gently as the other man wiped his cheeks on his shirt sleeve. “I’ll go with you to see him. You don’t...you don’t have to face this alone. I might not be able to do anything else, but I can be there for you. You’re my brother, okay?Maybe not by blood, but you are. You’re my little brother, and it’s my job as big brother to be there for you.” He smiled weakly, trying to channel Dean and Gabriel through his bones, seeing the softening look in Sam’s eyes as he understood the gesture for what it meant to them both. “Gonna take care of you. I promise.” He wiped Sam’s cheek of more tears, hoping he could do a good job at this. For Dean. For Sam. For himself. 

\-----

The scream got stuck in Dean’s throat as he thrashed against the floor, tears dripping helplessly from his eyes, breaths struggling to make it to his lungs. He was still in that awful room, the lights only ever on when Alastair was there for some more training, more torture, more fun. He shivered and he sweat, his body in shock from the contradictions his nerves were sending to him every second. The room was almost icy cold, and he was naked now, thanks to Alastair’s anger, but his body was covered in a sheen of sweat that would cool and freeze him even deeper once it all stopped.. He was shaking hard, body twitching against his will against the floor as the sting of the cane against his back throbbed. His hands were tied in angry ropes around his raw, bloody wrists, hooked now to the floor instead of suspended above him. Alastair took pleasure in moving Dean’s aching body around, forcing him into new positions for sustained amounts of time before moving him again. Every time it was like forcing rusted metal to move, his joints screaming, his muscles quaking, his stomach roiling in nausea. 

Alastair stood not two feet away, smiling down at Dean as he traced the red welts already forming across Dean’s body. Red lines streaked his upper arms, the tops of his abused shoulders, the small tender of his back, the globes of his ass, and the meat of his thighs. Everything stung and screamed at him for it to stop, for the lashes to stop falling on already bruised and battered skin. He could do no more than whimper and cry, snot and tears and drool making his face a mess, the ball gag stuck in place. He’d been denied a voice since that first day, the gag only ever removed when he was forced to eat and drink. His eyes stung from the lights overhead, always so blindingly bright compared to the darkness he was trapped in every other minute of the day. He had no concept of time, of how long he’d been here. It felt like eternity. 

“Still so responsive.” Alastair purred, using the tip of the cane to trace down Dean’s spine, to play with the seam of his ass, circling the meat of his butt cheeks with a playful smile. “Even gagged I can make you sing for me.” He tossed the can down suddenly, near Dean’s head, kneeling besides his battered shoulders. He ran his fingers through Dean’s growing hair, twisting his face towards him to look into the helplessly wet pools. “Will you be a good boy for me, Dean?” He asked softly, petting at Dean’s cheeks, the heat of his hands making Dean shiver all over again as the chill dissipated just a little from the contact. 

Dean trembled, blinking rapidly to clear his vision of the blur of tears. He sucked in a weak little breath, unsure what Alastair wanted from him. There’d be times he’d ask Dean questions, would test him to see how long he could last a particular session. If he was good he’d get extra food, or an end to the beatings. Last time, instead of having his nails pulled from his fingertips he’d been rewarded with a full body wax that had burned across cuts and bruises instead, leaving him feeling exposed and violated on a whole other level. His skin was baby smooth now, besides the bruises and welts and cuts. He felt infantile, so hairless and exposed. He didn’t know what Alastair wanted from him, what would set him off this time. There were days when he’d come in and talk about Castiel, ask him personal questions he didn’t want to answer. They were always specific and snarled, posed as yes no questions so Dean could respond with the gag still in place. If he hesitated, if he lied or refused to answer Alastair would dig into him with whatever punishment he had ready for that day. Sometimes cigarettes, sometimes needles, sometimes clamps and electrical shocks. Dean was still reeling from the day Alastair had decided to rip the answers from his body by piercing in to him. He now had six shiny new earrings in his right ear, red and sore still from the slow pierce of the gun through cartilage and skin. Alastair had taken inspiration from his other piercings, looping chains from his lip piercing to clamps of his nipples so if he moved to much he’d risk ripping his own skin. Thankfully, Alastair had left his tongue piercing alone, forgotten behind the red plastic of the ball gag. 

Knowing it’d be better if he gave in, Dean nodded helplessly. He just wanted it to stop. It was too much, all of it. He was getting desperate to see the light of day again, to see the color blue, to see hazel. He wanted sunlight and warmth and a warm bath. He wanted his family. God, he just wanted to see Sam’s stupid dimpled smile, his too long hair, his too big frame. He wanted to see Castiel’s shy smiles, his scruffy morning face, his squinting eyes as they studied something with everything he was. He just wanted to wrap his fingers in those gentle hands, fold himself around that runners body and listen to Castiel too deep voice read aloud from one of his many books, or talk about bees. He wanted to see those blue eyes one more time. Just one more. He couldn’t stand the thought of never looking into those eyes again, never seeing the softness, the love, the sincerity behind those ocean eyes.

“I’m going to start training you, Dean.” Alastair said with a brush of lips to the shell of Dean’s ear. “Like before. Like I promised back then.” He reached for the hook that kept Dean’s arms trapped to the floor, unlocking it with a key and pulling Dean up off the ground. He dragged Dean’s fragile body until he got to a plush arm chair that had been brought into the room the day before with no explanation. He sat himself down in the chair and manhandled Dean until he was straddling Alastair’s lap, pressed in close to his hips and forced to clutch at his chest for support on his weak legs. His kneecaps flared with pain, bruised and slightly swollen, even with the softness of the cushions beneath them. His legs had been untied as reward a few days ago, but his legs were weak, bambi thin and uncoordinated. They couldn’t take his weight any more without him leaning against something. 

Alastair purred in pleasure as Dean slumped helplessly into him, forced to endure the embrace of his enemy. “Dean, Dean, Dean.” He chuckled out softly, running warm hands down Dean’s shivering arms, caressing the smooth skin in small circles with his thumbs. “Now, I know how much you want to fight and scream and stop this from happening.” One hand looped around Dean’s waist and settled on the small of Dean’s back, fingers ducking down to tease the crease of his ass. Dean’s whole body went instantly tense, locking up despite the pain that lanced through his muscles. He bit into the gag with a flare of his nostrils, staring at Alastair with wide, hurt eyes. 

His mind was instantly screaming no. No. No. No. Not that. Alastair had only broached the sexual side of his obsession once since that first day, cumming across Dean’s bloodied back after a particularly brutal session a few days ago. He’d not touched Dean sexual, only carved open his skin and left cuts to litter his body in twisted designs only Alastair could ever understand. An artist with a razor. 

“But-” Alastair’s cold tone broke Dean’s internal struggle with a forceful grip to his jaw, forcing Dean’s animal eyes on his. “If you’re good for me, I’ll bring you out of the darkness.” He whispered sing songily softly against Dean’s skin, tantalizing and painfully on point. 

Dean’s body went limp without his meaning too, reacting instantly to the thought of sunshine, of color again. He let out a whine, wanting it desperately, so goddamn desperately that his body was ready to betray that private intimacy to Alastair just for the touch of sun on his skin. 

“Now, now, my dear boy…” Alastair pet at Dean’s cheek, wiping away tears with false gentleness. “We’ll start slow tonight, okay? I’m just going to finger you open, okay? Gonna lube you up and start you out with a small butt plug. Okay? And in reward, I’ll let you bathe in the sun.” He purred the poetry along Dean’s jaw, licking his way up to the side of his ear, sliding his tongue across Dean’s lobe before pulling back. “Do you want that Dean? Will you be a good boy and not fight me?” 

Staring helplessly at Alastair’s smirking face, Dean couldn’t even deny himself. He nodded shakily, more tears rolling down his cheeks. He had to do this, he had to. He needed to get out of the darkness, needed to be warm again. God help him, he couldn’t even stand the thought of what his punishment might be if he said no, if he struggled. He had no strength left for that, no control anymore. 

Closing his eyes against the satisfied smile Alastair gave him, he let himself give in to the man using his body. Each breach of those bony fingers was like a needle shoved into his skin, every twist and stretch a reminder that he had to survive. He could beg Castiel’s forgiveness later, could lock away the memory of another man’s touch in the hollow of his mind. He had to do what he could to survive. He’d been struggling for days on end and every defiance was met with agony and psychological torture that made him fear for his own sanity. Every whisper of his family from that monster’s lips was a reminder of what he could lose, what he was fighting for, what was being stripped from him every session. He just had to pray that they’d find him, that they’d make this stop before Dean lost himself. He wasn’t strong enough to go through it all a second time, not without a reason. He wasn’t here to protect Sam or Cas, or to pay his father’s debts. He was here for Alastair’s sick amusement alone, and it was destroying him. The desperation he felt for the simplest things terrified him. He was weak, he was going to break, and Alastair knew exactly how to twist his needs, his insecurities, his fears into his own sick orchestra. His only hope was to hold on to the memory of Castiel. Of Sam, of Bobby, of Michael, of the life he’d been taken from. It was worse, this time. He was alone, completely and utterly, kept only to be turned into a pet. He’d had a taste of real life, of freedom, happiness. Last time everything had been black and helpless already. Sam’s innocent face was the only thing that had kept him going. Everything back then had been so simple. Even the torture, the ugliness of it. Everything now was touched with this poisonous intimacy that was trying to eat it’s way into his heart and burn away the lightness of the love he’d experienced before. The darkness now was attacking the light of Castiel love that had been liberating him piece by piece for the past several months. Losing Castiel’s light was going to break him, and he knew it. 

As Alastair slid the thick cold plastic of the plug in at last, those poison lips pressed to his face again, tongue licking away his tears. “You did good, Dean.” He purred, fingers trailing around Dean’s hip to check his length, finding it flaccid and limp between his stretched thighs. “We’ll work on this in the future.” He rolled his still lube slick fingers across the head of Dean’s lifeless cock, gaining no more than a weak little twitch. His body didn’t have the energy to get aroused even if he’d wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “Maybe then I’ll let you speak again.” He licked the edge of the gag strap, trailing the tip of his tongue along the fabric to the stretch of the red plastic, circling Dean’s stretched lips with his tongue and pulling on the flesh of his bottom lip and teasing the loop of his lip piercing with his teeth before sitting back slightly, eyes racking over Dean’s trembling form.

Gently coaxing Dean’s fisted fingers from the fabric of his shirt, Alastair led them lower, between their laps, pressing Dean’s abused hands to the bulge in his pants. “One day soon, Dean-o. You’ll have the privilege of riding my dick. And you’ll enjoy it.” He laughed cruelly as he ground his hips up slightly. “And I will erase every memory of Castiel Novak from your mind, from your body. You will know nothing, loving nothing, want nothing but me.” He forced his jeans open and pulled out his cock, pressing the weeping head between Dean’s swollen, abused fingers, rutting up into the weak tunnel they made, bound uselessly in front of him. 

“My own personal cock slut.” Alastair groaned, not even looking up to see the lifeless look in Dean’s eyes, the resignation and despair. “And what a pretty toy you are, Dean-o. What a pretty little thing you are.” He panted as he moved, soon spilling hot seeds into Dean’s fingers and across their laps with a satisfied groan of pleasure. “And don’t worry…” He purred, stroking the last of his release from his cock. “I won’t ever let you go.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First half of this chapter is Sam and Cas meeting up with John Winchester. Second half is back to Dean. No graphic torture this time, but some non-con. We're getting ready for the show down and big rescue.

Sam stared at the building in a daze, his eyes focusing and defocusing between breaths, between thoughts. Watching him, Castiel knew this was probably one of the last things Sam wanted to do in his life, up there with reliving his childhood. Castiel didn’t want Sam to have to face this demon of his past, didn’t want him to face John at all. Sure Sam could tell him his father loved his children, but the evidence against him was damning. Hell, they were visiting the man in a prison. 

They’d talked with Gabriel and a few other detectives and had worked out a deal that could help them find Dean. Gabriel was inside right now, talking with the men in charge, setting up the interrogation room so that they could sit down and talk with the father Sam abhorred. Gabriel had been given special permission from his superiors to help out with the case for the next two weeks, but after that he was off the case and back to his desk. Castiel didn’t want to think about what would happen if they didn’t find Dean in those two weeks. It had already been too many days, too many weeks as it was. Due to Gabriel’s own history with the gang, and the fact that his family (Cas) was involved they had given him special permission, though he was required to attend counseling for at least a month after the affair was taken care. As a precaution. Gabriel had agreed with only minor fussing, saying he’d be fine. He’d given in without much more than a few mumbles of protest to the condition because if he wanted in on the case at all he had to give up his own personal comfort a little. This was for his friend, for his family. 

Castiel fiddled with the phone in his hands, ignoring the shaking as he waited for the text from Gabriel telling them it was time. They’d been mostly silent on the drive to the prison just outside of Chicago, only discussing the basic details of what was being offered for John Winchesters help. If John Winchester cooperated he would be considered for parole, and would possibly be allowed out with guardianship in order to assist the investigation. His skills were well known and begrudgingly respected, even if he was in jail. 

Gabriel had wanted to keep both Sam and Cas outside of the whole ordeal, trying to convince them all that he could handle the older male. He wanted to keep it professionally between trained professionals so as to bypass the potential of personal conflicts happening. Sam had fought him tooth and nail instantly, snarling angrily at Gabriel for trying to make him back down from the plan he had hatched. It didn’t take long for Gabriel to realize neither of them were backing down, that they both needed to be in that room. Damn any consequences. 

A loud buzz in his hands made Castiel jump, a rattling sigh escaping as Sam’s eyes darted to him instantly. “It’s time.” He nodded in confirmation, seeing the message on the screen. 

They made it inside on heavy feet and met Gabriel by the front door. He held out two plastic bins, telling them they needed to empty their pockets and leave their belts there just in case. They didn’t think John would be violent, but it was policy. When they were done, Gabriel handed them two passes that would allow them access to the interior space. Once all that had been said and done, they head down a long hallway to a series of rooms designed for special meetings with lawyers, etc. In the last room on the right, Gabriel paused to look at his two tag along, sighing out a heavy breath.

“You ready?” He asked cautiously, tone low. His golden brown eyes were as tired looking as Sam and Castiel’s, weighed down heavily by Gabriel’s own memories of the past. 

They nodded in unison without a word, darting looks between each other to reassure themselves they could handle anything behind that door. For Dean. Castiel reached out quickly, as Gabriel opened the door, and squeezed Sam’s hand before letting it go, letting the taller male step inside first.

Walking into that room was not what Castiel expected. It was too simple, too real, too normal seeming. His world felt off kilter, like something was missing from the picture, like everything was too simple. The man sitting at the table already, sipping at some water, wasn’t as awful as he’d imagined. Even seeing the pictures, his mind had somehow warped John Winchester into a mega monster, comparable on some level to Alistair. With only the charges against him mentioned, it was hard not to see past the endless scenarios his mind supplied him. He couldn’t remember a single story from Sam or Dean where this man was a happy presence. He looked so normal. His hair was dark and thick, cropped short. His face covered in a mature salt and pepper beard that hugged his features neatly. His eyes were a dark hazel, closer to Sam’s color than Dean’s, darker yet, but his jaw was all Winchester. Sam and Dean. He could see Dean’s nose, Sam’s dimples, Dean’s broad shoulders, Sam’s strong brow. It was disorienting.

Dark eyes turned from the table where Gabriel sat to Sam with a silent appraisal before darting once to Castiel where he’d stalled by the door. Silently, he cataloged the new arrivals before his eyes moved back to Sam, a small smile curling his lips up genuinely. “Sam.” A voice rough like Dean’s. Castiel chest ached from the hollow swell that had formed there, where Dean’s presence was missing. 

“Hey, Dad.” Sam’s voice was softer, tired, younger. He could see the exhaustion in the set of his shoulders, the anxiety in the curl of his fingers at his side, his lips curled down in hesitation. He paused before stiffly walking over and taking a seat besides Gabriel, back stiff, staring across the table at John with a suddenly unreadable expression. The similarity of the mask to that of Dean’s own trademark closed off look shook Castiel. He leaned against the wall heavily, not taking a step closer. He needed a moment for it to sink in, to adjust, to stabilize. 

“It’s been a while, huh?” John’s voice was whisky rough, with the beginnings of a smokers gruff to it on top of natural alpha tone. “How’ve you been?” 

Sam cleared his throat harshly, glancing away before licking dry lips and responding. “I’ve been better.” 

“You look like hell.” Dry, appraising. 

Sam sighed, looking up at John again with a weary expression he couldn’t mask. “I’ve got good reason to.” He huffed out, glancing to Gabriel, needing him to take the reins with this right now. 

“Mr. Winchester.” Gabriel started, taking his cue easily, folding his hands on the table in front of him over a thick folder he’d brought along. “As fascinating as it is to meet you, we are here on business as we discussed briefly before.” He glanced to Sam once to check his companion. “You were informed earlier this week that we had some information we needed your help with. Due to a handful of reasons, we did not want to reveal too much information to yourself or your attorney over the phone. We needed to be sure of your use to our investigation before we were approved to approach you with our offer.” 

John’s eyes narrowed, taking in Sam’s expression with an inspector’s intensity. Castiel watched the man from afar, imagining the drill sergeant Dean had mentioned in passing. He was appraising his troops. “Where’s Dean? Didn’t want to see his old man, huh?” 

Gabriel let out an aggravated sigh at the interruption, gold eyes narrowing. “From what I’ve heard and read, I doubt he would want to, even if he were able.” Gabriel let out a bit more spitefully than he meant, his exhaustion failing his mental to verbal barrier. 

That caught John’s attention instantly, a slight snarl curling his lips as his expression darkened. “Where’s my boy?” Demanding, cold. 

“Four weeks ago Dean Winchester went missing from his apartment.” Gabriel stated calmly. “No evidence was left beyond a small smearing of Dean’s own blood on the corner of his nightstand, and a needle on the bathroom floor. Analysis discovered trace amounts of a drug in the needle, similar in composition to GHB, a common date rape drug.” Gabriel said in an even, professional tone, eyes sharp as they tracked John’s reaction cautiously. “From the information we’ve compiled, we believe he was taken by a member of the Lucifer gang, Alistair.” The news didn’t seem to surprise John, though his expression did darken with each word, anger filling those already too intense eyes. His jaw twitched with the name off Gabriel’s lips. “We do not, however, have any solid proof of his direct connection in Dean’s disappearance. No word has been heard from him or the gang as far as ransoms go, so we believe this is for more personal reasons.” 

“Those fuckers have my son?” John scarily low voice sent shivers through Castiel’s arms as the man glared holes at Gabriel. “Why the fuck did you only come to me now, you piece of sh-?” 

Sam’s tension laced voice cut through John’s harsh words with the smallest of waivers to the tone. “Because I didn’t want to see you again.” The blatant honesty behind it pulled John up short, and his face crumpled into one of shame and remorse. He blinked at Sam for several long moment before nodding slowly, resignation obvious as he collected his thoughts. 

“Okay. So what, you think I can help?” John asked, tone turning all business minded as he looked to Gabriel, avoiding his son’s pained expression. 

“That’s exactly what we believe.” Gabriel responded, opening the folder in front of him. “We believe that Alistair and his gang took action now, after so many years, because of this photograph.” He pulled out the image of Dean and Cas that had won Michael that contest. Castiel tried not to grimace at the thought of how that image had ruined everything. His memory of that night taking those pictures was precious to him, and he didn’t want it tainted by the awful reality of the present. Castiel watched John’s eyes take in the photo, forehead creasing as he darted eyes over to Castiel by the door. 

“This photo won a popular photography contest for the major arts magazine, Academy Eye. It was featured as a full page spread in their last issue. The photo was taken by Dean’s roommate, Michael Cohen. The other male in the photograph is Castiel Novak, my half brother and Dean’s current boyfriend.” 

“W-what?” John dropped the photo, gaping at the words from Gabriel’s mouth. “B-boyfriend?" His face twisted in disgust and rage in seconds and Castiel had to suck in a sharp breath to ground himself for the the potentially hateful words he could be hearing from his lover's father's mouth. "The fuck kind of games you trying to play with me, claiming my son’s some sort of faggo-” The word echoed through Cas’ mind even as it was cut off mid-syllable. 

Sam’s fists hitting the table echoed in the room, making John shut up instantly, eyes darting to the angry hazel of his son’s. “We are not here to listen to your homophobic bullshit." Sam seethed, his eyes dark and cold, his hands clenched white knuckled on the table. "We’re here so that you can help us find Dean, nothing else. So you listen to me, _John ___. If you say even one nasty comment about _my ___brother or my friend, I will make sure you never, ever, see or hear from, or about, Dean ever again once this is over. Do you understand me? I will make sure you live not knowing if your son is alive or dead for the rest of your life.” John’s eyes flared at the threat, ready to throw out a retort before he thought better of it. "So shut your damn mouth, for once, and listen." Sam's eyes turned suddenly to Cas, pinning him in place by the door. "Cas, come sit down."

__Cas shivered, stuck in place for a moment as he stared across at Sam in disbelief. He was honestly a little terrified to face John, and to be near Sam when he was in that mood made his skin prickle. It made him uncomfortable and hesitant to shuffle over to the last empty seat by the table, to Sam’s left. He sat down slowly, eyes flitting up to Dean's father. It felt unreal now, like he'd been expecting from the start. He felt a little sick to the stomach, hollowed out as he braced himself on the cold metal seat._ _

__"Cas?" Sam's strained voice accompanied a tense hand flopping between the two men, demanding introduction._ _

__"Mr. Winchester." Castiel said hesitantly, voice low and gravelly as his eyes darted up to meet John’s darker gaze. "Thank you for your help in finding Dean." He offered diplomatically._ _

__Castiel's rough voice obviously caught John by surprise, his eyebrow raising high on his forehead. He blatantly looked Castiel over, eyes roving up and down with barely contained disgust. "So," He glanced to Sam to gauge his expression before daring to speak again. "How long have you been letting my son fuck you?"_ _

__Sam's tension was electric in the air, but Cas quickly stilled him by just calmly setting his hand on his friend’s left arm, squeezing lightly before smiling innocently across the table. "Mr. Winchester." Cas' voice practically purred from him as he stared directly at monster from Sam’s childhood. "I have never let your son fuck me." His smile widened at the confused look he got from John, the blue of his eyes deep indigo with his inner anger at this man he’d barely met. "However, I have been fucking him for a few months now." He picked at the edge of the photo between them, drawing John’s attention briefly to it to encourage his analysis of the obvious chemistry that had been captured. "This picture was actually taken the same night Dean allowed me to take his virginity," He said fiercely, eyes flaring with a spike of pure anger. "And you can think whatever you want about me, about my "lifestyle choices", but I don't care. You can insult me all you want, you can be disgusted by the thought of my dick up his ass all you want.” He said pointedly, purposefully rubbing it in more than strictly necessary because of his surging emotions. “I can take all of your homophobia and ignorance. You know why?" He let the pause permeate the room with a quirk of a brow at the silent male across the table. "Because I love him. I will _always ___love him. Your words will not change that. I want him back safe and sound, in one piece, before Alistair decides he has the right the rape and claim what is not his. I can sit through a few hours of verbal abuse for the sake of sparing Dean potential weeks of physical and psychological abuse. So say whatever you will, I have no threats to make to calm your tongue. I don’t need them. If you have even an inkling of love inside of you, then you will stow your crap and help us save your gay, dick loving son."_ _

___The silence that followed was thick, unsettling, while John stared at Castiel with hard eyes as Gabriel and Sam sat in stunned silence waiting for John’s response. It took a few minutes before John leaned back in his seat, sliding the picture closer and moving his eyes down to it, examining it more closely. Another minute before he cleared his throat. "Well. I can see why this won." He mumbled as his peace offering._ _ _

___Sam let out a heavy sigh of relief and slumped back into his seat, covering his eyes with one hand as he dug the other free hand into Cas' thigh in thanks, not letting go as Castiel set his own hand over top of Sam's comfortingly. It was a small, but rewarding victory. Castiel had known Sam’d been terrified of John’s reaction to Dean’s relationship with him._ _ _

___"Alright, so what else do we know?" John asked after a moment, looking up to Gabriel as he tossed the photo back to him, schooling the look of disgust in his eyes._ _ _

___\---------------_ _ _

___The sun was almost too intense across his shoulders and back, but Dean didn’t complain. He was soaking it in as if it was the last time he would see it. After weeks of being in that dark, damp, cold room with no light beyond the blinding sting of fluorescent any time Alistair visited, the sun on his skin was very nearly orgasmic. He was laid out across the carpeted floor, soaking in the sun like a cat. At that moment he didn’t care that there was a gag in his mouth, that there was a butt plug in his ass, or that his hands were covered in mittens that restricted his ability to use his fingers. They had been a reward. The cotton cloth was reinforced throughout and had his fingers curled tight into fists, the wrists strapped tight and locked so he couldn’t just pull them free._ _ _

___This was Dean’s second day in the sun, and he still couldn’t get enough of it. He’d been rolling around on the floor back and forth for the past fews hours, following the path of the light so he could lounge in it to his hearts content. Alistair had brought him up to this room, full of deep rich mahogany furniture, and plush carpeting. The back wall was covered in a large built in bookcase, over full with books. Dean didn’t care, he couldn’t reach it anyways. His legs had been freed days back, but with the new room Alistair had traded his full arm bondage for the mittens and a cuff to his left ankle that restricted his movement to a small radius near the window. Dean didn’t care, hadn’t even tried to escape yet. Partially because he knew the mitts were designed not to come off, and also because he was to content. Alistair hadn’t punished him in 24 hours and it was blissful. His wounds had even been cared before the move into the room. Dean had no doubt it was because Alistair didn’t want blood on his carpet._ _ _

___“Mmm.” Alistair’s voice hummed from the direction of the doorway. Dean hadn’t heard it open, but then again he had been half asleep a moment ago. “Are you enjoying yourself, Dean?”_ _ _

___Dean turned his head to face the man by the door, sleep heavy green eyes blinked against the sun to look at him. No point risking his anger by ignoring him. His pride had been whittled away over the past few weeks. No point incurring another whipping by not answering a question like that. He nodded sluggishly, rolling a little so he was on his side, half curled over onto his stomach. He did it unconsciously to hide his exposed privates, and because he’d rather Alistair avoid his front if he did decide to hurt him._ _ _

___“You’ve become such a good boy, these past few days.” Alistair smirked, stalking closer and sitting in a chair just inside Dean’s radius of movement. His cold eyes traced over Dean’s exposed form, admiring his handiwork that was visible through the bandages. “You truly are a creature of the sun, aren’t you?” He laughed to himself, eyes taking on a lustful look as his eyes soaked Dean in. “All those earthy tones to your skin and those pretty eyes.” He smiled, knowing Dean didn’t like being called pretty. It still rankled him, still got a reaction from him on most days. Others he was too tired to fight the words._ _ _

___“Dean.” He cleared his throat purposefully, patting his lap. “Come.”_ _ _

___Dean groaned, curling over more onto his stomach to fight the order, not wanting to leave the warmth of the sun. He didn’t want to move at all, really. Every muscle group ached and the comfort of the carpet was better than the stiff positions on the cold cement floor of his previous space. He just wanted to sink into the soft fibers beneath him. With a struggle, he planted his sore, bound hands to the floor and pushed himself up slightly. He let out a strangled whimper as pain spiked up through his constantly sore shoulders. He sluggishly got his legs in order beneath him and managed to prop himself into a kneeling position, wavering on the spot a little as he tilted his head back enough to check Alistair wasn’t growing impatient with him. He was trying._ _ _

___“You’re doing well, Dean. Now come on, a bit further.” He pat his lap again, a sickly delighted smile on his face as he watched Dean’s struggle. “I have a gift for you, today.”_ _ _

___Dean bit hard into the ball gag, nostrils flaring as he fought back a surge of panic. Alistairs gifts were always twisted. He forced his reluctant limbs to carry him across the carpet in a weak crawling shuffle, stopping at Alistair’s feet as his whole frame swayed to the side slightly, barely upright._ _ _

___“Good boy, Dean.” Alistair cooed, brushing bony fingers through Dean’s grown out hair, pushing the strands from his eyes and forcing Dean’s head back so he could see the extent of his weary features. He’d grown pale from the blood loss, exhaustion, and lack of sun, but already the sun was returning some color to his features. His freckles stood out like galaxies across his cheeks, and his golden brown eyelashes fluttered as he blinked up at Alistair, eyes dull but still beautifully green._ _ _

___“Now Dean,” He purred, leaning closer to Dean, fingers brushing uncomfortably gently down Dean’s jaw, across the strap of the gag. “I want you to be a good boy for me, okay?” He recited like always, delight filling his eyes more and more. “Are you my pretty boy?”_ _ _

___Dean shuddered, eyes closing as he breathed through the anger those words spurred. It was going to be one of these kind of days. He forced his eyes open again with a small glare, nodding stiffly._ _ _

___“Good, good.” He brushed a thumb under Dean’s eyes, humored by the spite still there. “Now, answer me truthfully and I’ll let you get back to basking in the sun once we’re done.” He pulled at the flesh of Dean’s stretched out lower lip, waiting for Dean’s small nod. “Do you like sucking cock, boy?”_ _ _

___Dean’s whole frame went tense and rigid and his eyes turned wild. He wanted to snarl at Alistair to just throw him back in the basement. Fuck him and his stupid questions, his ugly old face, and his sadistic pleasure from torturing Dean. He practically thrashed his head side to side in a no._ _ _

___“No?” Alistair chuckled low, digging harsh fingers into Dean’s hair and yanking him closer. “Don’t lie to me, you worthless slut.” He snarled, ignoring the way Dean waved unsteadily below him. “I know you took that blue eyed boy’s cock like a fucking pro. I know you loved getting on your knees for him. So don’t you lie to me.” He slapped Dean hard across the cheek, sending him reeling. He waited for Dean to right himself before pressing on. “Do you like sucking cock, boy?” He demanded again, this time getting a volatile glare from Dean who remained unmoving this time._ _ _

___“Don’t test my patience tonight, Dean. I’ve been dealing with a lot of shit lately. You’re only out of that hole because I said so. I could leave you down there for the next few weeks to starve and wither away if you want.” He hissed, impatience lighting up his eyes. “Now answer my damn question.”_ _ _

___Dean wanted to deny him the satisfaction of an answer so badly, but he was terrified to the core of that look in Alistair’s eyes. Something was getting to him in the outside world. Something that made him angry and impatient. He nodded stiffly just to appease the man. He didn’t want to go back to that place._ _ _

___Alistair just clicked his tongue, seemingly less satisfied with the answer than he wanted to be. Score one for Dean. Alistair just stared down at Dean for a long, tense moment of silence before suddenly hooking a leg behind Dean’s back and tugging him forward forcefully between the spread of his legs. He would have yelped from the pressure of a heel digging into his sensitive, raw lower back if it hadn’t been for the gag. Speaking of, he felt fingers tracing around to the back of the strap._ _ _

___“Now, Dean. I’m going to take this gag off for a minute, okay? Let you adjust that handsome jaw of yours. I need you to stay quiet for me like a good boy. Remember. I still haven’t given you permission to speak.” Suddenly the clasp was undone and off and Dean felt that hard plastic slide from his mouth at last. He only ever got it removed when Alistair had someone come in to feed him. At most it was off for five minutes a day, and the food was tasteless and bland every time. He craved water more than he craved food these days, his mouth always feeling dry and jaw too sore. He groaned as his jaw released, tense from the stretch of the gag constantly there. His tongue darted out quickly and wet his lips, trying to relieve their dry ache._ _ _

___Alistair purred in delight as he watched Dean’s mouth, a thumb come up to brush against the piercing and tug lightly. “Now, Dean.” He said, thumb brushing over the now slick lips in a smooth glide. “I want you to be a good boy and put those obscene lips to work. If you’re good, I won’t put this gag back in.” He enticed as he dropped the gag on the floor besides the chair. “I’ll upgrade you to this nice, gentle ring gag.” He said, pulling a smaller gag from his back pocket, showing off a simple O-ring gag that was smaller in width than the ball gag had been. It would be easier on his jaw, for sure, and would let him wet his dry lips if he wanted._ _ _

___He bit into his bottom lip hard, eyeing the new gag hesitantly, trying to weigh the pros and cons. He darted his eyes up to Alistair, searching his face for the answers he wanted. He didn't find them. Swallowing hard, he darted his gaze away. He could stall. He brought his shaking hands up and mimed for water, hoping at least Alistair would see his need._ _ _

___Alistair let out a huff of a laugh, gripping Dean’s jaw firmly in his hand as he pulled him closer. He pressed his fingers into the hollow of Dean’s cheeks and pressed in hard to pop Dean’s mouth open. He leaned down and licked at Dean’s dry lips, circling the plump flesh. He tilted his head and slotted his lips firmly to Dean’s shoving his tongue in past his teeth to taste the parched expanse he’d opened up. He pulled back with a little hum, ignoring Dean’s tightly closed eyes and grimacing expression. He wet his own mouth and then leaned back in, spitting into Dean’s mouth without warning, watching the disgust flash through Dean’s eyes as they flared open. Alistair pat Dean’s cheek demeaningly. “Undo my pants.”_ _ _

___Dean’s eyes instantly dropped to the tent of fabric between Alistair’s legs, the bulge that he’d been ignoring up to now. He reacted without thinking by moving his hands up to the zipper, only to falter as he realized he’d be unable to undo them that way. He glanced up to Alistair, fighting back the whine of protest. It was bad enough that he had to resign himself to sucking the prick off, but to undo his pants without the use of hands was just rubbing it in. He locked his jaw, nostrils flaring angrily as he practically punched his bound hands into the meat of Alistair’s thighs, aggressively leaning forward and using his tongue and teeth to undo the man’s pants none too gently. His jaw ached and for once he’d rather just have the fucking gag in his mouth. Here was yet another thing he’d have to beg forgiveness for, if he ever got the chance. The memory of blue smiling down at him made his heart ache and his movements falter as he remembered the last time he had been willingly between a man’s knees. Castiel’s flushed cheeks, his intense stare, his parted lips as he moaned Dean’s name at him. The luxurious feel of those fingers brushing through his hair and across his shoulders. Zoning out Alistair completely, he set himself to the task before him, trying not to notice the different weight in his mouth, the different length, the wiry hairs at the base that brushed his nose uncomfortably as Alistair thrust into his slack mouth. He closed his eyes instead and imagined the smell of honeysuckle and dew, of ozone and bitter coffee. He imagined instead the curl of fingers in his own, the gentle breaths against his chest as he slept. He dreamed of entwined legs, and angel wings and galaxies in those eyes. It was all he could do to forget that the man forcing himself down his throat was not his lover, was not his best friend._ _ _

___The sound of his name from his tormentor’s lips nearly broke the spell he’d set on himself that was making it possible for him to get through this without throwing up right then and there. He gagged as the too thin, too long length pressed against the back of his throat, fighting the tears stinging his eyes, unaware there were already two steady streams leaking down his bristled jaw. He did his best not to rear back and pull away, nausea rolling through him in waves as his head was rocked back and forth, manhandled by too rough hands. It took all his strength not to retch right then as the taste of too sour, salty cum hit the back of his throat. He swayed back on his knees as his head was let go, his mouth hanging open as saliva dripped from the corner of his lips. His eyes opened with a film of detachment, as the cum swam over his tongue. Without thinking he turned his head and tilted it down, letting it drip from his mouth onto the floor by his legs. He didn’t have the strength to spit it out._ _ _

___Rough fingers digging into his jaw brought his eyes back to Alistair. He blinked lazily up at him, mind a haze. He’d pushed himself deeper and deeper into his own mind as he’d been violated. He struggled to swim back to reality, knowing he should, but knowing, too, that he’d rather not. The haze of his mind was safer than the too sharp reality of the present. His vision swam with memories of his dark haired angel sitting in front of him, not the grey goblin of his tormentor. He hardly realized his mouth was being filled with the new gag until he felt the click behind his head. He was vaguely aware of Alistair speaking, but he couldn’t make out the words. His tongue darted out to test the new, less painful stretch, letting out a little hum of acceptance. He could deal with this.The ache in his jaw was already dissipating, just a dull throb of discomfort in the background of his mind. He hardly cared any more. He knew his body hurt, but it felt foreign now, like it wasn’t his own body any more._ _ _

___Blinking up at Alistair he stared for a long, silent moment, trying to figure out what Alistair wanted now. He said nothing, staring intently at Dean instead as if cataloging him. Vaguely Dean thought the man was probably noticing the change in his captive. His eyes now dull, far away, and struggling to focus on reality. His body swayed from the exhaustion in it, and he let his eyes close, relaxing into the slight rocking motion of each breath. He hardly even realized he was falling until his side hit the floor, and his head bounced once against the edge of Alistair’s shoe. He blinked open his eyes for a moment before letting them slide closed again, letting darkness drift over him. He’d deal with whatever consequences his new state brought later. For now, he had dreams of hazel and blue to fill his mind._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter and potentially with the next few. I'm in my last 2 1/2 weeks of college, so dealing with exams and papers and group projects and graduation and job planning and such. Should have some more time to write after May 11th. Enjoy!


	24. Chapter 24

Dean stared blankly at the grey wall in front of him. He didn’t remember what he had done to get the sun taken away again, but here he was. He was on his knees again, his arms wrapped up tight again in course rope that cut off his circulation. The rough material twisted down from his wrists to the bend of his elbow, hooked up to the ceiling once again. It reminded him of those first days here. He didn’t try to move his body this time, knowing the pain would be unbearable, even if this time his shoulder wasn’t dislocated. He was still raw and beaten elsewhere. No point adding to the pain.

Blinking dully at the greyness in front of him, he wondered as to why this room seemed different. It was warmer than that basement cell, brighter. He noticed now, too, as his mind filtered back to reality somewhat, that he was also kneeling on a large, round ottoman about half his body length in width. He wondered why Alistair gave him the comfort of plush padding beneath his aching knees. He must be somewhere new, he decided at last, turning his head slightly to try to look around. Behind him he could vaguely make out the edge of a window, with grey light streaming in from the outside. It looked stormy, but that might just be Dean’s heart. He licked his lips through the gag, finding the ring gag weird in his mouth, still. He’d rather the ball gag be back. He’d feel less exposed, less vulnerable. How many times was it now that Alistair had use that gag for his own pleasures? He shuddered to think of the taste still clinging to the back of his teeth. When had they last been brushed? He missed the little pleasures of freedom so badly it left him feeling raw, inhuman. He was constantly exposed, always aching, and the closest he got to being clean was when he was hosed down after soiling himself. He felt disgusting. Worthless. 

His angel wouldn’t want him back after this. Who was he kidding? He could hardly remember what his blue eyed angel really looked like anymore. It felt like he’d been locked away for years, He dreamed of his lover, when the other nightmares didn’t overrun his mind instead. He tried to remember what blue even meant. He could only remember grey. His angel was blue and pink and cream. His brother was hazel and chocolate and gold. How he wished he could paint the right colors on the silhouettes of the figures in his mind. He was losing them, their colors. He had to struggle to remember their names. His name. If it weren’t for Alistair, he’d have forgotten himself by now. 

He let his eyes fall shut again, hanging limply from his restraints. He felt sore in places he didn’t remember being abused. He felt violated, his body fucked open. Maybe that’s why he was here. Maybe Alistair had fucked him at last. He just wondered why he felt so drugged, why Alistair wouldn’t have wanted him to be aware for their first time.. It was hours before he fell into a doze, and hours more until he was woken by the sound of a door opening. He didn’t recognize the figure approaching him. She was all pale skin, red lips, and dark hair. She was lovely, with her round cheeks and neat eyebrows, her doe like eyes. He’d never seen her before. 

She walked right up to him, a bottle of water in one hand. She set it down on the cushion beneath his knees, kneeling behind him to unclasp the gag from his mouth first. His jaw popped painfully as it was released from it’s stiff hold. He wondered again if Alistair had really decided to drug and fuck him. It felt like it. He blinked against the ache as the woman moved around in front of him, kneeling in front of him and carefully bringing the water to his lips. He swallowed down the offering without a care for if the water was drugged or not. He wanted the taste of cum off his tongue, off the back of his throat. He drank greedily, panting heavily when she finally pulled the mostly empty bottle away. He blinked at her, staring without meaning to. He couldn’t help it. She was full of color. Red, red lips were curved into a hesitant frown, chocolate brown eyes rich like coffee. She smelled of rain and cinnamon. Dean couldn’t help but smile, indulging in her newness. 

“God, you’re a mess.” Her voice was lilting, but rough, impatient. She looked him up and down, noting every battered inch. She let out a stressed sigh, looking to the bindings on his arms. She pulled a knife from behind her back. Instantly Dean flinched, eyes clouding over with memories of Alistair’s knives. He sucked in a sharp breath, teeth digging hard into his bottom lip as he glared at the unfamiliar woman. Was she here to torture him? 

“Settle down, Winchester. I’m here to help.” She offered, setting a petite hand on his cheek and forcing his gaze on hers again. Her eyes were sharp, but gentle beneath the rough exterior. Her lips curled down into a frown as he hand moved to his forehead, and she let out a groan. “Shit. You’re burning up.” She moved closer, so she was nearly chest to chest with him. “I need you to stay calm. Okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” She reached up above his head and slid the knife between his arms, under the rope. She began sawing quickly, face a mask of intense concentration as she attempted to remove the tight binds without slicing into skin further. She let out an impatient sound as she worked, cursing silently under her breath as she pulled the rope from the raw indents of red skin. 

The ropes fell away, and sensation flooded Dean’s limbs. He let out a strangled sound, tears springing to his eyes. She carefully brought his arms down around her shoulders, shushing him softly as she slotted her small shoulder under his armpit. “I know it hurts.” She stayed still for a moment, letting Dean adjust to leaning fully on to her as he tried to breath through the sudden pain of sensation. She didn’t comment on the stream of tears, instead looking to his hands, noting the lock around his wrists that kept the mitts still in place on his fingers. He’d forgotten about them. She didn’t seem to have a key though, and a quick attempt to saw through the material with the knife didn’t work. Dean barely cared. 

“Alright. We’ll deal with that later.” She said to herself. “I need you to breath through the pain for a minute, Winchester. This is going to hurt, but you’ll thank me later.” She wrapped an arm around his back, dragging him to the edge of the ottoman. He wanted to scream as his body moved, but he swallowed down the sound on instinct, biting harder into his bottom lip. He could feel them digging into the skin, ready to break it with the next jolt of movement. She got him to the edge of the ottoman without a sound from him beyond a small hiss of pain. She set her feet on the floor again and stood up, carefully working his weak legs to the floor. Thankfully they were still unbound, but the weight of his own body on them suddenly shot memories of abuse through his mind. 

He breathed raggedly through the flashes of memories he got, men surrounding him on the ottoman, men using his body anyway they wanted. He could feel their fingers digging into his tender skin, into his neck, his hips, his thighs. He could feel their fingers inside him, their bodies breaching his own. The haze of his fever made him struggle to see what was real and in front of him right now. He’d been drugged. He remembered it vaguely now, Alistair pressing the pills to his tongue and drowning his throat with water. He remember the way they rocked into him, one after another after another. He remembered them man handling him across that ottoman, fucking into him like he was a ragdoll. No wonder his ass ached around the plug settled inside him. No wonder his stomach was heavy and unsettled. No wonder all he could taste was cum and salt.

“Fuck.” The strange woman cursed again, struggling to get him across the floor to the door that was propped open. “Come on, Winchester.” She was practically dragging him, his legs stumbling weakly to jerk into movement with each step. He was breathing raggedly through the pain, unseeing past the memories and tears. She stopped by the door to lean against the frame for moment, panting heavily as she rested. “Considering you look like death warmed over, you’re still a heavy fucker.”

Dean didn’t have enough awareness of himself, or his new companion anymore to be impressed she had gotten him that far. Soon she was moving them again, leading him down a hallway. It was a long, slow process, and if Dean was more aware he’d wonder how no one had found them yet. Stopped them. Was this just a dream? Some new form of torture? He heard a small chirp of noise from the girl, nearly falling over when she suddenly stopped them to lean against the wall. One hand haphazardly let go of his arm, reaching into her pocket for a phone. She pulled it out and open, snarling into it as she propped it on her shoulder.

“What?”

A noise from the other end had Dean turning to look at her, blinking rapidly to try to clear his vision as he stared. He knew that voice. Or he thought he did. She gave him a startled look, hooking him back over her shoulder as she shrugged them off the wall. 

“I’m nearly there. He aint exactly a bag of feathers.” She panted into the phone as they struggled down the hallway, a door in sight. She had her eyes on it, clearly aiming to get them that far. “I’m working on it.” Her eyes darted to Dean once, listening to that voice. Dean struggled the best he could to assist their movements. He’d decided by the time they reached the first door that this was in fact some sort of rescue and was trying his best to propel himself forward. He felt sicker with each step, but he was compelled forward by that voice. It was so familiar. How did he know that voice? “Not good-” Her voice filtered in and out of the haze on his mind. “Have that robe ready. The boys don’t need to see it all just yet. It’s...yeah..” 

They were feet from the door now, and Dean’s vision was doing loops now. He was able to focus enough on the fact that there was a very obvious alarm on the door though. Alarms meant noise, noise meant they’d get caught. He sucked in a harsh breath as she closed her phone with a snap, shoved it down the front of her shirt fast so she wouldn’t have to let go of him, and pushed the door open. An alarm instantly started blaring and Dean’s vision whited out. He felt himself stumble and start to fall and then everything went black.

Awareness returned to him in flashes. He could hear the sound of the alarm fading away, could feel the rumble of an engine under his body. He felt something cold pressing to his forehead and pain shooting through his wrists as someone looked at the mitts covering them. Voices faded in and out as he tried to blink open his eyes.

“Shit. Meg, call Gabe, tell him to keep the boys away. I can’t have them seeing him like this.” That so familiar voice danced through Dean’s sense. It left his chest aching and his eyes stinging with more tears.

"Careful!” The strange woman’s voice, Meg, snarled suddenly, slapping away a sudden pressure on his shoulders. “Don’t just touch him willy nilly you old fool.” A gentle touch suddenly soothed down his side, before disappearing completely. “Jesus, Winchester. Just sit back and stop touching him. You’re just going to make things worse.” She snarled, the sound of a phone trying to connect filling the silence that followed. He relaxed into the sudden relief, body sagging down into the comfort of the soft cushions beneath him. The hum of the car racing away from his prison recklessly fast sinking Dean back into darkness.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare to have your heart torn out. I'm sorry in advance.

Grey was the first thing Dean remembered when he woke again. He felt stretched thin, bones aching. His head felt light, buoyant, like he was in water. He felt the awareness of pain clawing at his consciousness, trying to get him to focus on that.

Instead his mind was flooded with nameless faces, blurs of men moving on top of him, in him, against him. He could see Alistair hovering by that grey window, watching from an armchair as he was violated. He remembered being brought into that grey, empty room. Nothing but that ottoman and that chair there. He remember Alistair sitting in that chair and commanding him to get him hard, to get him wet. He remembered being told to climb into his lap. He remembered those cruel fingers twisting in to him in place of that solid plastic. He remember the burn of penetration. He remembered being detached, absent, a mere body to be used. He remembered the guilt that still ate at his heart. He hadn't even tried to fight. How would his Angel ever forgive him? And then all those other men, the drug that had burned into him making him too hot all over, too sensitive to their violation. He shivered at the memory of their touches, their lecherous words. How could he ask forgiveness for all those men? How could he even stand the thought of letting his angel see him like this? He was caked in their filth.

His eyes flared open as he felt arms suddenly curling under him, lifting him bodily. He twisted, snarling silently as he was brought flush to a broad chest. He didn't recognize this scent, these arms. No! He would not let anyone else use him! He was free!

"Dean! Dean, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." A rough, sorrow filled voice begged, holding him tight as they moved. He felt them travel to a door, heard it open, and then he was being brought inside a musty smelling room. Absently he realized it was probably a motel. He was breathing heavily, hyperventilating, his skin crawling with every point of contact as he thrashed weakly against the tight grip. He heard a rushing sound, gasping as he was set down on cold porcelain, water flooding the space around his feet. He flailed, trying to get out, trying to claw at the man holding him down, only to remember they were still trapped in those awful mittens. He was useless, still trapped.

"Dean, Dean. Calm down! I'm just trying to help." Big hands suddenly gripped at his shoulders, and grabbed his jaw, forcing his head back so that his eyes could focus. "Dean, look at a me. Come on, breath. Calm down for me." Aged, muddy hazel eyes stared into his, begging for recognition.

Shock shuddered through him as remembered those eyes. Remembered that face, remembered who that voice belonged to. Soundlessly he mouthed the word "Dad", staring in disbelief as recognition washed over him. In seconds his eyes were flooded, big helpless tears drenching his face as he looked up at his father. It was like he was back in those motels he had grown up in, his dad trying to make up for a too bad beating he'd given Dean when drunk. He cringed back from his father and curled up into a too tight ball, shaking hard.

"Dean..." John breathed helplessly, reaching for a wash cloth and wetting it slowly, moving deliberately so Dean could see what he was doing. He reached up to wipe down Dean's nearest arm, causing the abused boy to cringe back and shake his head, scuttling backwards into the corner of the old tub, staring up at John with terror in his eyes. It was obvious very quickly that Dean would not willing allow his father to touch him. Crouching back on his heels he looked at Dean with years of regret hanging on his shoulders. A knock on the door startled them both, and Dean tucked his head into his knees, ignoring the protest of each abused inch of him that strained in the defensive position.

“Winchester?” Meg’s voice called in before the door was being open and her head peeked in. She instantly took in the sight and let out a labored sigh. “I told you to leave that to me, you pig headed fool. Gabriel is wanting to talk with you. Some big news on their end of the operation.”

John nodded, standing and handing the washcloth to her. “Try to get him clean, he won’t let me touch him.”

“No shit sherlock, have you looked at him? Anyone coulda told ya he wouldn’t want your big man hands all over him.” She scoffed, pushing past him into the small inner space, sitting on the edge of the tub and turning the water down to a small trickle, adjusting the temperature slightly.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a sigh. “Dean? I know you don’t want anyone touching you, but I need to get you clean. Will you please uncurl a little so I can wash you off?” She asked in a level tone, patiently waiting for Dean to relax a hair. When she saw some of the tension ease out of his shoulders, and his eyes peek out over the top of his folded arms, she offered a small smile.

“That’s good. No rush. I’m here to help.” She said, holding up the wash cloth and making sure he tracked her hand as she rinsed it under the warm water that was pooling slightly in the bottom of the tub. She left the drain open so the dirty water could wash the filth away as she worked. “I’m going to start on your arms, okay? Will you let me see them? I know they hurt.”

She slowly got Dean to open himself up, ending up getting into the cramped tub part way through with her pants off so she could kneel behind him and wash the grime from him. She worked gently, using a plastic cup to fill water up and pour over his body to rinse the filth away after she washed it down. She was careful with every bruise and cut and abrasion, working him through the pain of the slow process.

At one point John tried busting his way back into the room, only to make her work another ten minutes just to get Dean to trust her again. By the time the water was running slightly cold, she finished, turning the faucet off. She let the small amount of water around them drain away before reaching for one of the large towels, carefully draping it down across Dean’s trembling shoulders. She carefully eased him out of the tub, managing to get him to the edge of the tub before wrapping the second towel around his waist to cover him up. She grabbed one of the small hand towels and carefully set to work drying his hair and wiping away the tears of pain that the whole ordeal drained from Dean. The washing had opened up a few of his more recent wounds, and even now the towels around him were stained pink with the open wounds.

He was shivering badly, even though his body was burning up. He felt nauseous and lightheaded and weak, but Meg just talked him through it. She was blunt and honest, but refreshing. Amusing even. Once she’d gotten Dean dry, she gave him a hesitant look, frowning deeply.

“Okay, Winchester. I need you to do one more thing for me. Then we can brush your teeth, alright?” He gave her a weary eyed look. He said nothing, as he had refused to do this whole time. She sighed, rubbing her pruny fingers down her face. “This is going to be unpleasant, and I’m sorry.” She carefully brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead. “Alistair drugged you.” She said bluntly, causing Dean to twitch visibly and sway slightly where he was propped. “You remember that?” He gave a weak jerky nod. “Okay. I need you to make yourself vomit.”

She watched as his vision danced and darted away, his head jerking slightly to the side in a no. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it will make you feel better. I have a cup of water already waiting, and once you’re done we can brush your teeth and get you to a bed so you can lay down.”

He remained still and silent and unanswering for a good two minutes before he jerked a weak, red lined arm towards the toilet. His hands were still covered and useless, but she got his message. She opened the lid and moved the shower mat so he could ease himself to the ground with her help. It took a while before Dean could force himself to throw up, his body jerking with false gags and dry heaves for a moment before he managed to rid himself of what little was in his stomach.

Meg’s supporting arms were the only thing that kept him upright as the last of the bile left him, and the convulsions in his shoulders eased. She wiped the side of his mouth gently and helped him lean back against the wall and the edge of the tub, letting him breath for a minute. She brought him some water, making him drink it down after he caught his breath and was able to calm enough to stop shaking. It took another twenty minutes before she got his teeth clean and his abused legs into a pair of loose boxers.

It then took a good ten minutes before she got him to one of the motel beds, shooing John away into the far corner as she laid the towels down where he would be laying, carefully easing him down onto the clean sides with a patient hand and cooing voice. John left at some point as she began bandaging him up, taking a call or being unable to stay and watch each inch of abused skin be treated. She didn’t know which. She’d lulled Dean into a half sleep as she worked by her meaningless words, the occasional song, and a sure touch. She was a trained nurse, and had all the supplies she needed at the ready in a series of bags on the other bed.

She worked her way out from his chest, bandaging up his back first so that he could lay down. From there she worked around to his middle, leaving him wrapped nearly fully in white from hip to shoulders. There was little she could do for the bruising that didn’t require bandages, but she set a cold compress to Dean’s swollen left shoulder as soon as she had the surrounding area treated and made sure it was properly back in it’s socket.

Next she worked from his feet up, his legs much less damaged than his torso and arms, though his knees were swollen and purple and scraped raw. He had gashes in his thighs and scars from whips and lashes across the back of the full length of his legs, but she couldn’t do much more than wrap them up.

She had taken the butt plug out in the bathroom, and taken care of his injuries below the boxers when they were still in there, so once she finished attending his scarred and bruised legs she covered his legs with the warming weight of the comforter. Most of his wounds had already been partially treated those days ago by Alistair’s physician, though rough and less carefully done. He’d have an array of long term scarring that she could do little to help.

She focused on tending to what she could, trying to keep herself clinically detached so the images of scalpel kissed tissue wouldn’t haunt her dreams.She carefully pulled the covers up to cover all but Dean’s untreated arms, moving around to treat his arms. She was quick and efficient, bandaging all the way to the edge of the mitt, looking at it disdainfully before moving around to the final appendage that needed treatment.

She did her best to block the damage from her mind, but the sharp inhales from Dean in pain were enough to make her dizzy with the sheer amount of damage he'd taken and the pain must be in. She cast him cautious looks, methodically working the disinfectant cream and bandage around his wounds.

The ropes had dug deep and left harsh red indents in his flesh, blistered and peeling and oozing puss in sections. He’d been left to hang in that room and in others like it for too long, the skin raw and tender and purple. As she reached the end of his right arm, she cringed to see the purple spreading down from beneath the mitt cuffs.She needed to get those off, and soon. She worried about permanent damage to his fingers, but she couldn’t assess the extent with them trapped like that. She’d have to wait on John to get the right tools to undo the locks before she could treat them. For now, they both needed sleep.

She silently tucked Dean in, layering the blankets around him and making sure he was warm before sighing, telling him to try to get some sleep, and then moving to the opposite bed to collapse besides all her supplies in an exhausted heap. By now it was the middle of the night, and they weren’t out of the woods yet.

\---

Sam paced the motel room floor, running his hands through his hair over and over again. He was anxious, and terrified and too tired. It was the morning after their rescue, and they’d found Dean. They’d also found a lot more than that. John had been able to get inside information about Alistair’s goings on over the course of a week, and they’d tracked it back to a location in Chicago. Back to the city they’d escaped all those years ago. Sam’s hardly been able to sleep, able to see in his father’s and Gabriel’s eyes that they had found something bad.

Castiel had found something last night, too, and he’d been nothing but silent since. Sam wanted to ask, but he was terrified of the answer, terrified to find out. They’d gotten Dean away, and according to Cas and Gabriel had gotten more than enough evidence against Alistair. The only problem was, Alistair had gotten away.

After getting Dean out, Gabriel had been able to call in another unit to clear the scene, and had found Alistair’s main hideout. Office, dungeon and torture pit included, but not the man himself. Their main concern had been getting Dean out. Alistair came second. Sam hated it, but he wasn't going to complain. His brother was out of that place.

There were records upon records of Alistair's crimes, and Sam felt weak in the knees thinking about what they’d find about Dean on there, both from the past and the present. Whatever it was, Cas had seen part of it, and if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, Sam didn’t want to even know a second of it.

The thing that was getting to Sam the most was the fact that they hadn’t seen Dean yet. Not in person. They knew he was safe, knew he was literally on the other side of the wall from them, in the room next door, but they weren’t allowed in. Meg had banned them all as she cared for Dean, demanding they abide by her rules right now as she was the only one medically trained to deal with his injuries. They’d opted against taking him to a hospital for fear of corruption within the system.

It had been two months. Two long, painful months. They’d been exempt from their final exams which were taking place that week at school, allowing them to be there for Dean. Without the distraction of school and exams, Sam and Cas had nothing to focus on as they waited for word from Meg or their father about the man in the other room.

It wasn’t until noon that Gabriel and John knocked on their room door. John was pale and silent and sat heavily in the chair by the dinette table, ignoring Sam and Cas completely. Gabriel looked haggard, as though he’d gotten no sleep at all. He walked sluggishly to the free chair, nodding for Sam and Cas to come closer. He set his laptop on the table, opening it up with a heavy sigh as they shuffled over to sit on the edge closer to the newcomers. He logged on without a word and opened a program, logging in before minimizing the video that came up before Sam and Cas could see it.

Golden eyes turned towards Sam and Cas, nodding absently at them before clearing his throat. “Okay.” He said, licking dry lips. He rubbed his hands down his face. “I promised to tell you whatever you wanted to know. You can ask...I’m just not sure you’ll like the answers.” His eyes lingered on Castiel’s stony expression before darting to Sam. He knew the younger Winchester would be the one asking.

Sam hesitated, glancing to Cas with a worried frown, biting at his bottom lip. His silence was unsettling. “When can I see him?”

Gabriel let out a strained groan, glancing to his laptop. He’d known the question was coming, but didn’t really know the answer. “Honestly? You can see him now, if you want. But-” He cut in before Sam could jump off the edge of the bed. “I...I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of us to go near him. Not for a while, anyways.” His eyes darted to his silent companion, before flitting back to Sam.

Sam let out a groan of frustration, nodding stiffly. “How bad is he?” He grit out, wringing his fingers.

Gabriel let out a humourless laugh, looking to John for a moment before looking to his own hands. “Pretty bad.” He breathed.

“D-don’t-!” He started in a huff, losing energy at the slight flinch from Gabriel, lowering his voice. “Gabe. He’s my brother.” He whispered out despairingly. “I-I need to know.”

“Sam,” Gabriel looked up, bags hanging heavy under his eyes. “...I honestly don’t know if Dean would want you to know a fraction of it.”

“I don’t care.” He strained out, leg bouncing restlessly on the floor. He dug his fingers into his knee to try to stop the jittery movement, the wait making him stir crazy. “I don’t. I could handle it last time, I can handle it this time.”

“Last time he wasn't rap-” Gabriel’s mouth locked shut, but it was enough. Sam heard the word on his mouth, could taste the bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down with a ragged breath, nodding shakily. He’d known it was a possibility. He’d told himself he could handle it. He looked to Castiel, trying to gauge his silence. He was eerily still, face void of emotions, lips a tense line and eyes on his hands were they grasped something Sam couldn’t see.

“I know.” Sam shuddered out, lifting his eyes to Gabriel. “He was raped. I know.”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked to the laptop and away again, and Sam had a sinking feeling that the video there would tell him exactly what he wanted to know. “Alistair taped every session.” Gabriel spoke at last. “Had cameras in all the rooms.” His fingers moved the mouse to hover over the video and then he quickly jerked them away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Sam. I can’t show you….It’s….it’s too much. He wouldn’t want you to see.”

“Did Cas see it?” He demanded, eliciting a full body flinch from the blue eyed male at his side. Gabriel nodded reluctantly. “Than show me.”

Gabriel let out a ragged breath. He pulled up the screen with the video and turned the laptop to face Sam. The video featured a grey room with a single white ottoman in the center, a hook hanging empty above it. Sam barely noticed it at first glance, looking instead to the single plush arm chair at the edge of the screen. The image was sharp and clear, high definition, high quality. Gabriel clicked a few minutes into the timeline, the image jumping to one of Dean kneeling on the floor in front of Alistair in that arm chair. Sam's fingers dug into his knees as he saw some of the damage on his brother, and the state of his body. He watched Alistair pet at Dean's face, tugging on his hair as he said something to the prisoner. Sam reached to turn the volume on, some sick part of him wanting to know what was being sad, but Castiel's hand jumped out to stop his movement. He glanced back to see Castiel's hardened eyes turned to the computer, cold as steel as he shook his head slightly.

Sam let his hand drop back to his lap, sickened by the haunted look in Castiel's eyes. He looked like he'd seen hell. Sam slowly turned back to the screen, watching as Dean was backhanded and then pulled back up between Alistair's legs. He watched as his brother was ungagged, drugged and half drowned. He bit down the rage with a growl, tracking every movement on the screen. He could see the sides of their faces, each of their expressions. He saw light still in Dean's eyes for a moment longer before his expression turned hazy, drugged. He watched as Alistair purred filth down at Dean. Watched as Dean used his slackened mouth to stumblingly get the older man undressed with his teeth and tongue. Watched as Dean absently lapped at the man’s erection with little kitten swipes. Watched as Alistair shoved his way into Dean’s mouth, tears springing to Dean’s despondent eyes as the back of his throat was hit, his air being cut off as Alistair held his head pressed in close, nose buried in greying curls of wiry hairy. He watched as Dean was pushed back and away, Alistair slapping his spit covered cock against Dean’s purple bruised cheeks. Watched as Dean was pulled into the chair like a ragdoll, draped across Alistair as his hands reached back to remove a shockingly pink plug from Dean’s ass. Watched as Alistair lined him up and guided Dean’s bruised body down onto his wet length. Watched as something shattered under the haze of drugs in Dean’s eyes. He had to force his breaths even as he watched Alistair use his brother, thrusting recklessly up into him as his fingers dug into Dean’s hips and his lips spewed hatred against Dean’s ear.

Sam had to look away for a minute before he could look up again past the burn of tears. He sucked in a sharp breath as he saw the new scene. Dean’s arms being wrapped in coarse rope, trickles of blood dripped into his armpits as his skin broke. Watched boney hands grab that hook and draw Dean’s bound arms above his head. He could see the ragged breath shudder out of Dean as his abused arms twisted his brutalized shoulders. He was suddenly immensely glad the sound was off. He barely realized he was gripping Castiel’s wrist tight in his right hand as he watched. He didn’t notice when he’d reached for his friend as a safety net. He didn’t know he was bruising his skin because Castiel said nothing, simply resting his free hand on top of Sam’s white knuckles where they clamped on.

He felt his heart quickly cracking like a pane of glass as he saw the strange men fill the room, naked accept for black masks covering most of their faces in various styles. Men with their hands around their hard cocks, jerking off to the sight of Sam’s battered brother. He felt dread wash into him as ice filled his veins. His mouth fell open in shock, mind blanking out understanding for a moment before he weakly gasped out. “No...he didn’t do that Dean...he couldn’t...this is just a bad dream…” He felt like he was out of body, staring at his own slack jawed, dumb expression as he sat their slumped on the edge of the bed. Pale as if he’d seen a ghost, eyes blinking mechanically as he shook his head back and forth slowly to himself. “He didn’t...not to Dean…” He hardly realized the tears dripping furiously from his eyes. “Not to my big brother.” He sobbed, feeling Castiel’s arms curling around him supportively as the awful reality of it shattered him. His chest felt empty, aching terribly as he saw them use his brother, pulling him this way and that in bruising hands. He felt like an abyss was sucking away his ability to feel, leaving him numb and helpless to do anything but watch. He clutched on to Cas as he leaned into him for support, unable to begin to comprehend how Castiel must feel beside him. Dean was Sam’s brother...but for Cas, Dean was Castiel’s very heart. Dean was what brought light to his eyes, and sunshine to his smiles; Castiel’s soulmate hanging there violated and struggling weakly against the hands of his rapists.

He’d told himself he was prepared for the worst...but he’d been naive and desperate to believe his brother would be able to shrug off the additional pain and bounce back to his smiling self living a normal life in a boring college town working a crappy paying job and laughing over coffee every morning. Sam was honestly painfully afraid his brother would never recover. He felt like a child again, watching the first time his father’s bloody fists rained down on his hero’s freckled face. He was there again, watching as the blood mixed with tears and snot on his big brother’s swollen face. He was crouching there, again, watching from his hiding spot behind the couch as his father cursed at his oldest son, whiskey and beer making his breath reek as he snarled at his eight year old son. Could hear the ghost of words filling the silence of the present as his protector and savior was pummeled, dropped to the floor with his mother’s name being cursed at him. He was four years old again, clutching for support at the back of couch as tears spilled down his gaping mouth, from wide disbelieving eyes.

Except this time it was worse. Self loathing flooded Sam as he realized nothing had changed. He was still a helpless fool watching the only family he’d even truly known and loved get traumatized and hurt. He was a useless child still waiting for the dream to end, for his nightmare to end. Still expecting to wake up to see his brother’s dorky younger self smiling sparkling green eyes at him as they laughed together, running free together through wheat fields behind moldy old motel rooms. Still waiting for Dean to come kneel by his side and say his name with that crooked smile of his, teasing his little brother for crying over a small scape he’d earned tripping over his own feet. He was waiting to see those lips curl around the word Sammy, waiting to hear his brother tell him it was all alright, he was there, everything would be okay. Still waiting for Dean to come reassure him everything would heal with a little bit of loving and a little bit of time.

 

\-------

[ ](http://waffle-san.tumblr.com/image/83939593650)

[Fanart by karoviesart](http://karoviesart.tumblr.com/post/83922164878/even-though-i-really-didnt-have-time-i-ended-up)


	26. Chapter 26

For two days they stayed in silence in the motel room next door, silently accepting that until Dean was ready, they wouldn’t try to see him. They both sat in the greyness of the room as they waited, hoping to hear that Dean had requested them. Finally, on the morning of the third day, Gabriel came into their room with a quiet huff, looking at Sam and Cas and clearing his throat. 

“Are you two ever going to come check on him? He’s not in a coma, you know.” He mumbled out, looking impatient with them. They blinked across at him incredulously, simultaneous mutual feelings of unworthiness and uncertainty flooding them. Sam moved sluggishly to the edge of his bed, standing up with a look to Cas when he realized the other male wasn’t moving to get up. 

He frowned at his friend, wetting his lips to ask him if he was coming. Instead he stepped past the bed, met his eyes and sighed. He would ask later why Castiel shook his head and lowered his gaze as if he was unwelcome to go see Dean. Sam drew his bottom lip listlessly against his teeth and went to the door. He could tell himself he was ready, but he knew now he wasn’t. There was no point in saying he was when he knew he’d never be ready. He couldn’t be in time, so he sucked in a deep breath and pushed through his panic and fear of stepping into that room, waiting for reality to pop back into place.

He was quiet as he followed Gabriel into the room next door, waiting for the door to close softly behind him before daring to look up. Dean was propped on his side in a nest of pillows, staring intently at the brown haired girl sitting besides him with rapt fascination in his eyes. He didn’t turn to say hello to the newcomers, attention fully on Meg as if he hadn’t even heard them come in. 

Sam ran his sweating hands down the sides of his jeans, heart hammering as he shuffled closer to the bed. He hesitated by the foot of the full sized bed, forcing shaking hands down into his pockets before clearing his throat. Dean’s attention wavered at the noise, eyes blinking a few times sluggishly before tracking away from Meg’s face as her gaze directed his attention over to Sam.

Dean’s eyes were foamy green in color, lighter in color than he expected, softer colored than he expected against the grey and purple of Dean’s face. Dean’s eyes flittered over Sam for a long moment, tracking his size and frame before swaying back up to Sam’s own eyes. Sam held his breath as he watched Dean turn himself slightly to lean more onto his back than on his side, his right hand lifting slightly, waving Sam closer with a flash of white. Sam’s eyes flickered down the bandaged arm to the white that continued past his wrist around his palm and under five thick splints on each finger, a thick brace around his wrist keeping it straight. He jerked forward uncertainly, unable to look away from his brother’s broken hand laying there against the dull gaudy pattern of the motel comforter. 

He reached Dean’s side and slowly sank to his knees on the edge of the mattress before sitting on the narrow sliver of space, staring helplessly at the hand now by his hip.

The sound Meg’s throat clearing snapped him out of his daze and his eyes jumped up to Meg and then down to Dean who was staring at him with a furrow to his brows. His lips curved in a near pout as he watched Sam, the only sound from him the small, even pulls of air in and out of his lungs. 

Sam lifted his hands to touch and then stopped, letting his uncoordinated hands fall uselessly to his lap as he remembered why touching might be a bad idea. His lip trembled as he breathed in deep, looking up at Dean at last, focusing on his tired eyes. He blinked against tears, lips curling up into a weak shadow of a smile. “Hey, Dean.” He whispered out on a wavering breath.

Dean blinked up at Sam, watching the tears drip down Sam’s cheeks and off the tip of his nose. Slowly Dean lifted his hand up, maneuvering clunky fingers up and against Sam’s cheek, cupping it from a distance, barely touching. His eyes glittered to a muddy brown green color, as his lips moved in silence around his brother’s name. Sammy. 

Sam bit his lip hard, teeth digging into his bottom lip hard as he reached up and hovered his hand near Dean’s own, wanting to touch, but afraid to cause him any sort of pain when his hands already looked so small and broken. “Dean…” He begged, terrified of his own presence near his brother. How could Dean be okay with him there when he’d done nothing but sit back and hide his whole life? 

Sammy. Sammy. Sammy. Dean’s lips curved just slightly with the shape of his name on his mute lips, something small lighting up Dean’s face as his eyes stared enraptured at Sam’s face. 

Meg’s voice was hushed as she spoke besides them. “If you let him, he’ll just stare at you like this for hours.” She revealed with a soft sigh, offering Sam a tired smile when his eyes darted to her face. She nodded towards Dean again for indication as she spoke. “You’re good not touching him. He tends to close off at contact, but he’ll just lay there staring if you don’t talk to him.” 

Sam blinked at her helplessly as his eyes jumped back and forth between her brown eyes to his brother’s dazed expression as those exquisite eyes stared back in a mask of startled seeming amazement. Enraptured with Sam’s face, hand having flopped back down to the mattress with a dull thudding sound as Dean watched on in silence. “T-talk? His voi-” 

She shook her head, interrupting the thought before it could be spoken. “One sided conversations.” She answered truthfully. “He likes listening to the sound of our voices. From what I can tell, too, he’s hypnotized by our colors.” 

“C-colors?” Sam stammered, confused, wiping a tear from his face with the backs of his fingers, sniffling slightly. 

Meg nodded with a wispy smile. “Our colors.” She repeated, waving a hand slightly to her face for indication, and her red lips. 

Dean’s lips moving caught Sam’s attention from the corner of his eyes, lips mouthing three silent words. Sam stared in silence, trying to decipher the words. His look of confusion must have gotten to Dean though, his hand lifting to hover between them. 

Auburn. Fingers against the tips of his long hair. 

Hazel. Plastic pressing to the crease of his eye.

Gold. A gauze wrapped thumb brushing over the lid of his eye. 

Sam blinked down at Dean as understanding dawned on him. Auburn, hazel, gold. A mantra repeated on Dean’s lips with the faintest hint of pleasure lighting his eyes as he stared at Sam like it was the first and last time he’d ever see him.

“Chocolate, copper, cream.” She repeated with a smile. “My colors.” She explained as Sam’s eyes turned to her face, a nod escaping before he realized it. If Sam had to give name to the colors of Meg’s face, he would have chosen similar colors. Probably less poetic. She leaned in slightly, tilting her head as she maintained eye contact. Her smile warmed. “Gold, huh?” She laughed slightly, shaking her head. 

“What?” Sam stuttered, confused. 

“An intimate color.” She pointed out.

Sam frowned, feeling his cheeks heating under her gaze and inspection. “What do you mean?” 

She smiled warmly, tilting her head down to Dean. “You Winchesters and your lovely eyes.” She snorted, rolling her eyes before settling back on Sam. “The gold in your eyes is subtle, shadowed.” She articulated with a pointed raising of her brow. “It took me leaning in to your personal space to even see it, but he knew right away what the color of the flecks in your eyes were.” 

Sam choked out a small shuddering laugh of disbelief, looking to his brother with his heart swelling to big in his chest. He wanted to hold him, kiss his forehead and tell him it was okay. Wanted to be able to brush a hand through his hair and not fear triggering memories of assault and violation. “Just wait til you see Cas’ eyes.” 

Dean’s expression shifted suddenly, catching Sam’s eye as he looked away from Meg to Dean laying there, eyes looking far away as he frowned, shoulders jerking slightly, frame trembling. Splotchy pink color darkened Dean’s cheeks, his expression turning far away and lost looking as his lips whispered soundlessly. 

Cas? 

Sam could read the question in the mute word. He watched in silent devastation as Dean’s mind reeled, lips forming the three letter word over and over before morphing to one that made Sam’s heart clench tight against the already hollow ache in his chest. 

“That’s new.” Meg murmured to his side, watching in startled fascination. She leaned close to Sam, frown creasing her brows. “Who’s Cas?” 

Sam let out ragged laugh, tears flooding his eyes suddenly. “His Angel.”

\-----

“Cas, you need to go see him.” Sam pleaded, staring at the curve of Castiel’s back as he stood at the end of the walkway, hands clutching into the railing blocking his path from the one story drop down to the ground floor of the motel. He’d found Castiel wandering listlessly on the floor above their own rooms, eyes far away and lost looking. 

The small shake of his friends head shot anger through Sam that was startling and consuming. He threw a punch at the wall nearest him, not caring if their were other occupants inside. Fuck them and their peaceful happy lives anyways. 

“Why are you abandoning him?” He knew his words were too harsh, sharp in the humid heat of the afternoon. 

Cas’ shoulders twitched on a tense, before suddenly sinking low in defeat as he turned around to face Sam. It was the first good look Sam had gotten since the day they’d watched that nightmare fueling video. His eyes were bottomless depths of midnight blue, anguish lining every feature of his face. “That’s not-”

“Then why!?” Sam snapped, voice loud in the silence of the motel parking lot, the sound of cars rushing along the highway not far away was the only other noise. 

Cas looked lost, mouth floundering on words he could verbalize. The soundless floundering made Sam feel instantly sick as he saw his brother’s lips moving around the ghosts of his words. 

“Why, Cas?” He begged. He didn’t understand why Castiel refused to go see Dean. 

“B-Because-” Cas hand flopped by his side, pointlessly trying to indicate his reluctance in the movement through the thick air around them. It failed, and Cas’ eyes faltered, dropping to his feet. He reached into his pants pockets, slowly pulling out a set of tightly folded, deeply creased pages that looked like they were torn from a sketch book. Sam had a sinking feeling they were from one of Dean’s man journals.

Castiel’s nimble fingers carefully unfolded the set of papers, flattening them out before his eyes focused on them. His lips trembled as his lips curved in a watery smile. “Dear Cas,” He started, tracking words written on the page. “I love you.” His voice waivered with the words. He cleared his throat and his face set into one of grim determination. “I dream of you at night. Your smiles lighting up the room as I finally get the courage to tell you. I think I loved you that first day I saw you. Sam knew right away. You’ve become my best friend, and maybe it’s selfish to want you as more than that. I’m scared of this feeling. I haven’t seen you in a week, but every night I check my phone wishing I was brave enough to call you and tell you. I haven’t written like this in years. Bobby always told me to get the emotions out somehow. Drawing has always been the easier method for me...easier to create but not describe. I’ve never been very good with the whole emotion, thing, but every smile you pull from me feels like stiches to old wounds. Maybe it’s pointless, but writing to you feels like praying. I never had much faith, but I want to have faith in you. You give me hope. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to tell you. I see heaven in your eyes. Safety. I love you. You give me hope.” 

Sam blinked helplessly at Cas, caught off guard by the too beautiful words. He didn’t understand, and he felt like his heart was exposed, unguarded as it waited for the blow that would follow the emotional letter. “Cas, I don-” 

Castiel eyes snapped up to Sam’s like magnets, too blue piercing through his exposed emotions. “I’m not enough, Sam.” He shuddered out dejectedly. “I made him a promise and I failed him. I’m not….S-Sam. I’m not strong enough.” 

“Not strong enough?” He echoed, hands balling into fists at his sides as he unconsciously stepped closer to Castiel, crowing his space. “That’s what this about? Strength?” He shook his head, angry. “You’re such an idiot, Castiel!” His fingers wrapped tight around Cas’ fingers and the worn paper in his palm. “Do you know what I heard when you read this?” He waited for Castiel’s uncertain, jerky shake of his head. “I heard my brother pouring out his heart out on paper because it was too much to keep inside, because it was too important to confine to pictures.” He practically tore the paper from Cas’ fingers, peeling the top layer away and exposing the picture below he knew he’d find. A fuzzy sketch of Castiel reading at his usual coffee shop table. “I heard my emotionally abused, overly macho brother let himself be honest with himself for the first time in a long time.” He pressed in closer to Cas, nearly glaring down at him, ignoring the tension in his frame as he cowered slightly against the metal railing. “You read it, Cas. Hope…” He whispered the word reverently. “Hope.” He repeated with a wet smile, feeling tears prickling his eyes again. “My brother is down stairs right now.” He pressed the pages to Cas chest with a thump. “Mutely begging for his Angel.” He saw the pain flare in friend’s eyes, the shame coloring his cheeks. “You’re not supposed to be strong for him, Cas. You’re just supposed to _be there_ for him.” 

Cas drew in a shuddering breath, wiping at his face furiously as he pushed the crumpled pages back into his pocket. “They raped him, Sam.” He rasped out.

Sam ignored the flinch the words caused, his gaze hardening more. “Yeah. They did.” He nodded. “But he’s still Dean.” He reached up and cupped the side of his friends jaw, tilting his head back to meet his eyes. “Our beautiful, abused, poetic Dean.” Sam smiled softly, eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Auburn, Hazel, Gold.” Sam recited, catching Castiel’s attention with the random seeming words.

“W-what?” Cas asked shakily, confusion wrinkling his face into an intense look of concentration as he tried to follow Sam’s logic and failed as he was quoted colors. 

“Dean’s colors.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “My colors.” 

“I-I don’t-...Sam, I don’t understand.” 

“Cas. Dean’s an artist.” He said slowly, like it was obvious. “He’s slightly OCD and meticulous with every detail he sets to paper.” He cupped both hands around Castiel’s face, trying to force understand into his thick headed friend. “Use that brain of yours, Cas. Imagine Dean’s art as words. A picture's worth a thousand words. What would those words be full of?” 

Castiel blinked up at Sam silently, mouth falling open as understanding washed over him. Castiel hadn't been the only one staring all these months. What was the first thing he'd obsessed over with Dean? Not just that warm smile, not just his handsome face, but rather his green, green eyes. How many hours had Castiel waxed poetic in his own notebooks during class trying to describe the color of the forests there, the color of the moss and fern and evergreen? Or the color of the crisp Granny Smith apples, the army camo, the tart green tea? 

“There you go. You got it-” 

“Color.” Castiel gasped.

“Yeah, Cas. **Color**.” Sam looked to the sky around them, grey and heavy with rain clouds that hadn’t left the Chicago skies for days now. “When was the last time you think Dean really, honestly saw _blue_?”


	27. Chapter 27

“Sam?” Meg’s voice carried from the floor below, causing him to frown as he turned away from his slack jawed friend. 

“Meg?” He called back, leaning over the edge of the railing to look down and spot her by the door to Dean’s room. Her expression was stressed and tense with worry, and it didn’t take long to see why. Dean was clutching at her back, leaning into her much smaller frame as she blocked him from leaving the motel room. Sam sucked in a sharp breath, turning to Cas and grabbing his hand without a word, dragging his friend to the stairs and down the short flight, ignoring his questioning as he made his way towards Meg. He stopped by the door, shoving Castiel in front of himself to see what the fuss was about.

Castiel went still as his eyes fell on Dean. Sam and Meg faded out of his awareness as Dean’s dark green eyes found his. Amazement slackened Dean’s features, mouth falling open as he suddenly pushed Meg out of his way, staggering forward and clutching at Cas’ face with his broken hands as he swayed under the weight of standing on his own. Castiel barely had time to reach out and stabilize him with hesitant hands on his waist. He had just enough time to see the older male mouth his name before lips were pressing to his own dry and chapped ones. 

Cas gasped, caught completely off guard as Dean pressed a passionate, breath stealing kiss to his lips. Of all the things he had expected of the first time seeing Dean again, this was not it. He felt tears spring to his eyes as he kissed Dean back gently, carefully wrapping his arms around his back to support him and feeling the other man sink into him more as his weight was accepted without complaint.

“Well then.” Meg’s voice let out a startled chuckle. “I should just get used to the fact you Winchester’s are constantly going to amaze me.” 

Dean pulled back from the kiss at the sound of her voice, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s as his bandages fingers brushed tears away from Cas’ face, his green eyes staring deep into the heart of Cas. Dean’s lips curved into the smallest of smiles as his lips moved against Cas’, repeating his name in a silent mantra. 

“D-dean?” Cas questioned softly, scared to put pressure on any part of his boyfriend as he supported his weight in his arms. He was hyper aware of the plastic digging into his cheeks from the tight press of fingers to his face. He could feel the thick bandages around Dean’s torso, saw in his minds eye the abuse painted across his skin in that video. He could see the purple and green and yellow of bruising all across his throat and neck and the sides of his face. He didn’t understand how Dean could even bear standing up right now, or how he could so easily lean into his arms and kiss him as if nothing had separated them but time and distance. 

Angel. Dean’s lips formed the word as softness relaxed his features, and his eyes sparkled with tears. My Angel. 

“Oh, Dean…” Castiel felt gutted, unworthy of the amount of faith screaming from mute lips. “I’m here. I-I’m sorry.” He brought one hand carefully to the side of Dean’s face, brushing tears from his eyes as he leaned in and kissed him lightly once more, savoring the look of relief in those tired eyes. “I’m here.” Dean’s arms fell from his face at last, wrapping tight around his slender frame instead and digging the tips of plastic into the curves of his shoulder blades. His head fell into the crook of Cas’ shoulder, small shudders indicating a quick loss of energy following his sudden amount of movement. 

Castiel clutched Dean close to himself, blinking over Dean’s shoulder at the awed expression on Sam’s face. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple softly, feather lightly rubbing his hands across Dean’s back. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, closing his eyes against the overwhelming emotions for a moment. He just needed to breath through the intensity of Dean’s faith in him for a moment. 

“We should get him back to bed. He really shouldn’t be moving about just yet.” Meg said to his right. His blue eyes turned to her fully at last, catching her gaze over his lover’s shaking shoulder as he blinked against the sting of tears clinging to his lashes. She sucked in a startled breath as they locked eyes, her lips falling open in a quiet gasp. “Oh.” She blinked rapidly, a scarlet flush covering her cheeks suddenly. “Wow.” 

Cas wrinkled his brow at her, darting questioning eyes to Sam for clues to her sudden reaction, feeling lost.

Sam’s lips curled up into a blinding grin. “Blue.” He said with a simple shrug. 

Cas’ cheeks flooded with color of his own as he carefully shifted his weight, shyly glancing to Meg again who was looking at her feet in embarrassment. He turned his attention back to Dean, gently nuzzling his cheek, pressing a kiss there. “Let’s get you back inside.” He said softly, earning a small nod from Dean who allowed Castiel to help him slowly inside again. Dean’s grasping fingers pulled Castiel onto the mattress with him. He settled up against the headboard as Dean sank bonelessly across his lap, head falling to his hip as his eyes stayed tilted up towards Cas’ face, arms curling around his waist as he sprawled out on the bed, uncaring if his legs even got all the way off the floor. Castiel felt his heart melt a little at the display, carefully settling his fingers in Dean’s hair and brushing through the locks in slow strokes, unable to look away from the green of those eyes. Even though he was hurt, and traumatized and weak, just seeing Dean was like a weight being removed from his soul. Even if the next few weeks or months were hell, just being by Dean’s side made it feel a thousand times easier to breath. 

He heard the footsteps by the door and looked up to see Gabriel and John standing by Meg and Sam, still by the open door, staring in at them on the bed. John’s face twitched across an array of emotions before settling into something painfully close to resembling jealousy. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” John gruffed as he tossed his head towards the two on the bed. “I thought he didn’t want anyone touching him.” 

“He doesn’t.” Meg nodded. “But it seems Cas isn’t just anyone.” She shrugged, a smug look on his face as she crossed her arms, the look echoed on Sam. “He practically had an aneurysm trying to get out of the room to come find him.” 

Gabriel’s lips curled into a soft smile, relief seeming to ease some of the ever present tension in his features away. “I told you idiots he’d want to see you.” 

Sam nodded with a tired smile. “Maybe in Cas’ case: needed.” 

John scoffed at his son’s words, muttering something under his breath Castiel couldn’t hear. Based on the three looks of disgust on the others faces he was glad not to have heard. Meg snapping back at him startled Cas as she sneered at the older man with a look of disdain curling her lips. “Oh, shut up. Your bigoted words certainly aren’t going to do you any good trying to get him to like you. In fact, you’re seriously going to need a whole personality rehaul if you even want him to look at you again. You’re certainly not doing yourself any favors.”

There was a heavy moment of silence before Gabriel cleared his throat. “Has he given Cas his colors yet?” 

Cas blushed as they all turned to look in at him, expecting him to give an answer when they realized he was listening in. He darted his eyes down quickly, scanning Dean’s face. His eyes were lidded, but still intently focused on Cas’ face. He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open against sluggish blinks of his long lashes, his eyes lined with exhaustion. Cas licked his lips as he gently brushed his thumb over Dean’s bruised cheek. He raised a brow, giving him a gentle smile in question. 

“Do I get colors, too?” He asked softly, not sure if Dean had been listening in to the others as well. He’d made no indication that he had. 

Dean’s lips curled up into a weak, lopsided smirk as his eyes fell closed and pink dusted his cheeks. He nuzzled into Cas’ side a little closer with a little nod. He made no move to mouth the words, though, breathing in deeply as his face slackened. Castiel blinked helplessly down at his boyfriend now asleep in his arms. That was completely unfair. 

Meg just chuckled. “Don’t worry, babe.” She called into the room with a soft lilt. “He’ll tell you later. He’s been up all day pouting about you and Sam not being here.Let him get some sleep. Poor man's still recovering.” 

"Will his hands be okay?" Castiel asked meekly, shivering at the lingering feel of plastic and gauze on his skin instead of calloused fingers. 

“His fingers aren’t broken.” Meg said softly, weary relief transforming her face. She looked older than her face, aged by what she’s seen in taking care of Dean’s wounds and helping him for the past four days. “Which is a blessed relief.” She came inside at last and settled on the edge of her own bed, fatigue making her shoulders slump as if under some heavy physical burden. “They’re just swollen and stiff. I don’t think his hands have been his own for a while.” She rubbed at her wrists unconsciously, imaging the tight ropes wrapping deep into her skin. She shuddered and licked her dry lips as she looked to her hands in her lap. “He’s been denied a lot of things we take a granted for…” Her breath shuddered out of her as she looked up at Dean now, sprawled easily across the bed to be in Castiel’s arms. He was so at ease, willingly sleeping in the heat of another body. He’d been stubbornly staying awake so he could avoid nightmares, sitting with the light on well into the night as his eyes stared at the yellow lamp shade blindly, as if seeing something else entirely. He’d been shying away from any kind if touch even when it to help. He’d been cringing at everyone else moving around him in the room, tracking their movement with scarily sharp dark green eyes. He would occasionally just get too dizzy and weak to stay up any more, reluctantly falling into the nest around him, staring up at Meg is she was there in ever constant silence as his mind too him somewhere easier for just a little while. His eyes would soften and turn almost grey in color as he stared at her and whispered his colors on repeat in slowing cycles as he fell asleep against his will. “This...what he’s doing...that’s new.” She said with a small shrug of her arm towards the bed. “And god…” She let out a weary laugh. “Does it feel good to see him like this.” She frowned at herself, wiping her eyes with an angry pout. “Stupid Winchester, making me soft.” She groused, glaring at he wet fingers. 

Cas couldn’t help but let out a soft, genuine little laugh, his lips softening into a tiny smile. “Thank you, Meg.” He said airily. “For having such a big heart and helping him these past few days. Thank you for loving him even though you’ve just met him. For being the first person to care as much as I’ve needed them to.” He offered her a watery smile. It felt like a miracle to have someone like this end up here with them. After all the waiting and worrying, all the blindly hoping the police knew what they were doing until they’d finally given up...She was the first ray of light in two months. A blessing in the disguise of a grouchy, brash nurse. Here was a stranger feeling the goodness of Dean even after all he’d been through. Someone else seeing the inherent worthiness in Dean Winchester. The boy who had been abused and dragged through the mud his whole life, but could still see past the pain and darkness and smile against all odds. The boy who saw no worth in himself when he was priceless to everyone he let into his life. 

Cas had felt it that first day in the coffee shop; felt the goodness in Dean, the love radiating from him. Being allowed into his life had only made Castiel see it more and more. The way he loved his brother wholeheartedly, the way he’d idolized Bobby as the greatest man when all he’d essentially done was give Dean the kind of father and home he deserved. He saw it in the way Dean worried over Michael, and put his all into every photo shoot the other man asked of him. Saw it in the way he would unconsciously make sure they all had their favorite drinks when they were feeling down, or a small homemade treat to pick them up when they were having a rough day at school. He saw the row of precious pictures hung by Dean’s desk, the notebook with pages filled with quotes Dean was trying to memorize for Castiel. 

He saw it in the sketchbooks filled with the dreams of his mother, his brother, his lover. Saw it in the way Dean had panted and mewled overwhelmed as Castiel sank into him for the first time. Saw it in the way he gave himself over shyly to Castiel despite his fears and trepidations. Saw it in the way he bit his lip and lowered his eyes in embarrassment any time he would ask Castiel for something just for himself, his flirty, confident side sliding away to reveal the boy beneath who just craved others' love and attention, craved their praise. Dean put his all into his family, constantly working to prove he was worth their time, their faith in him. Worked to prove he had some sort of worth based on his efforts for them. Always putting himself second to them in order to make their lives the best they could be. Wearing himself so thin he’d only stopped if he was too exhausted to keep going. Castiel craved the nights Dean finally relaxed a little, gave in and asked for things for himself for once instead of trying to put Castiel’s needs first. 

Meg blinked across at him in surprise, touched by the emotion in his eyes. “O-oh...yeah. Anytime, Clarence.” She said with a shy, girlish smile. Her heart hammered against her chest, falling a little bit in love with the two beautiful souls on the bed besides her and the floppy haired giant by the door. This was suddenly so much more than just a job, now. Her heart was firmly in the outcome of these peoples lives now that she had been touched by them. She felt like she had to give her all, now, too. Give her all to make sure these fools made it through this aftermath safely. Lord, she knew it wouldn't be easy. She cursed the devil that thought itself clever enough to be able to tear these two souls apart and claim one for itself. She wanted to spit in it's face and laugh because it would never win. Not against the love those two souls shared.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't keep myself away and wrote this little gem in between the mountains of articles I'm reading at work. Soundtrack to my writing this chapter: Sting (oddly, and specifically Fields of Gold, Desert Rose, and Englishman In New York for whatever reason). 
> 
> Sorry in advance for the slight punch to the feels again. And the shortness.

Waking up, Dean was hyper aware of the feel of someone else beneath him. He forgot completely for a moment the events of the day before, the reunion he’d been desperate for. All he could see and feel in that moment was the weight of arms holding him down, trapping him. Blindly he pushed away, struggling to get out of the sheets and tangles of limbs, ending up falling to the floor in a heap of fabric and pillows as he tried to scuttle away, backing himself up into the nearest corner he could find, breathing heavily and ignoring the flares of pain his decent caused. 

His head was buzzing, static noise filling his ears as he stared at his own hands in the tight confines of his huddled form, pressing into his chest and thighs as he folded himself as small as possible. He vaguely became aware of the pain radiating out of his hands as they were pressed to tight, knuckles pulsating more and more noticeably against the building ache of awareness. He let out a shuddering breath, blinking rapidly down at his own hands. He jolted hard backwards into the edge of the dresser he’d ended up finding sanctuary against as a shadow darkened his form. He practically threw his head back, hitting the back of his skull hard into the wall as his eyes focused razor sharp on the threat in front of him. 

All the air came rushing out of him as he recognized the face in front of him, the man crouching uncertainly at his feet, hands hovering uncertainly in the air. Desperate to touch but terrified of the reaction he’d get. 

Cas. Shame washed through Dean with tidal force, making him suck in a pained sob, pressing his throbbing fingers over his own face. Ashamed by his reaction, and unable to stop the thoughts of disgust that sickened him to the stomach at the thought of touching anyone right now...or worse, someone touching him. His skin was crawling and he wanted to scratch and tear at it, to make the sensation go away, make it blinding enough to drown out everything else. 

“Oh, Dean…” Castiel’s voice trembled, lost sounding as he looked on, unable to do anything and unknowing how to make any of it better. “I’m sorry.” He said instead, sitting down on the floor in front of Dean, a foot of distance between them as Castiel mirrored Dean’s pose, bringing his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms tight around his knees as he waited and watched. “I’m so sorry. I should have realized...I don’t…I don’t know how to make this easier...I’m sorry. I don’t know how to help.”

Dean shivered, swallowing down the cloying taste of despair in his throat, focusing on the sound of Cas’ voice instead, lifting his gaze slowly to peer out from his fingers and over his knees at the younger male. They were both so completely out of their leagues here. Neither one knew how to deal with this, to make it better. Dean didn’t even know where to start to try to shrug it all off, push it all away. He’d thought he’d understood torture and trauma before, thought he’d be able to handle it as well as he had before. Thought that maybe since he’d already been through hell before, he’d be able to brush it off a second time. He’d been so, so wrong. He barely even recognized his own mind, couldn’t even begin to consider speaking again, using his own voice. 

“S-Sam said it wasn’t about strength though.” Castiel continued on, not pushing Dean to come back to the self he had been before. Not pushing him to deal with the pain and panic in his chest. He was waiting, watching. Sorrowfully patient. “It’s not about being strong.” He wet his lips as he watched Dean watching him, saw the way those eyes cleared a little bit as he focused on Castiel’s words. “It’s about being there for each other. If that’s all I can do, then so be it. I’m not going to give up on you. Ever. I want you to know that now, at the start of this. I can’t even fathom what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking...I can’t….I can’t pretend to know. So I’m sorry, and I wanted to just…” He wiped tears from his own blue eyes as he monologued at the other man. “I don’t blame you. Not for any of it. I hope you know that. I’m not mad, I don’t need apologies or request for forgiveness. None of that was your fault. I k-know you might think you had some choice, that maybe you could have or should have done more….” He shook his head. “No. None of that, Dean. You had no control. You did what you had to to survive, to stay sane. You are at no fault. So I might not be able to do much, but I can be here for you. Even if I make such a crappy angel.” He offered Dean a watery smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe not a warrior of god...but your guardian. If you’ll let me.”

Dean’s glassy green eyes blinked at Cas, soaking in his attempt to help, his lifeline for his lover. He had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself from just bawling right then and there. He wanted so desperately to just fold himself into Castiel’s warm arms, press his ear to his chest and be serenaded by the constant rhythm of his heart beat. Instead, he dropped one hand slowly from his face, snaking it out along the side of his legs, palm up against the floor asking for the simple touch. The only touch he could stomach.

Castiel’s hand carefully, cautiously unfolded from his own knees, reaching out slowly before pressing lightly against the tips of Dean’s own fingers. He watched as Dean’s eyes flinched closed, and he breathed through the small burst of panic and nausea the first contact caused. He didn’t recoil though, tensing his arm and keeping his fingers still as he let the slight weight of the touch ground him. He breathed through the memory of other touch, letting the simplicity of Cas’ fingers against his own replace the feel of slick, wet flesh thrusting through the tunnel his bound hands made. He let the single point of contact ease him down from the terror of his memories. 

After a long moment of penetrating silence he nodded to himself, willing his eyes back open slowly to see Castiel’s watching him sadly, patiently. His lips curved up slightly when he saw Dean coming back to the present a little. He licked dry lips, tilting his head just slightly, narrowing his focus in that uniquely Cas way. 

“I love you, Dean Winchester.” Cas said softly, each word soaking into Dean like a soothing balm. “Now and forever.” He promised into the silence of the dark motel room. 

“Always.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the awesome fanart I got from one of my loyal readers here: http://karoviesart.tumblr.com/post/83922164878/even-though-i-really-didnt-have-time-i-ended-up based one of sam's memories in Chapter 25. I added it to the chapter itself, if you want to go back and read it and have a picture reference this go around. 
> 
> I also think once I have some more time I'm going to go through and try to add my picture inspiration into previous chapters, since this did all start as one big AU based off of pictures I'd collected over time. 
> 
> If anyone wants to make me more fanart, go for it. This is one of the best things ever to have as proof of people actually you know, REALLY liking what I write. It's so rewarding. You guys have no idea how much every comment means to me. I cherish every single comment and kudos. 
> 
> ****Relating to this chapter****  
> Bit of a transitional chapter, clearing up some of the in between that needs to happen to get the rest of this story on it's way. Wanted to set up for whats coming next in the recovery and healing and long term final relationship and life rebuilding aspects of things.

They stayed in that motel until the end of a week, giving Dean’s body a small reprieve before bringing up the idea of moving him back home and out of Chicago, which had depressingly stayed grey the whole time they’d been there. Dean remained silent, faraway, and constantly exhausted. He slept most of the time. He would lay on his side on the bed, one hand extended away from himself so Cas could rest his fingers lightly against the tips of Dean’s. Each time Dean sucked in a sharp breath, breathed through it, and then relaxed, doing his best to give Cas even a frail little smile. He would sleep easier those times than he did when Cas was away from him. He would try to force himself to stay awake to avoid dreaming as long as he could. Meg and Cas quickly found it was easiest to kind of trick Dean into laying down by having Cas sit besides him on the opposite side of the mattress, out of his space, with his nearest hand laid palm up towards Dean. 

And what irritated Cas the most it all wasn’t the obvious slow progress they were making in both his ability to interact and his bodies physical recovery. It was in the fact that Dean still hadn’t told him his colors. Everytime Cas asked Dean just gave him a gutting smile. He had yet to actually say what the colors were, despite his little mantras for Sam, Meg, and even Gabe. He even had a set of words for John, whenever he tried to come close. Dean’s eyes would always harden and his expression would close off into something stiff and unwelcoming. When John moved away Dean would turn into his pillows or knees and breath the words silver, mud, and black. It was painfully descriptive, despite the simplicity. 

John had returned to his prison cell the day before, an offer for review for parole being put in to the board for the coming weeks due to his cooperation and success in helping them find Dean. Gabriel was there in and out, working from afar with his team back home. He even came to Cas and Sam the night before they planned to take Dean to Bobby’s, and gave them information of therapists and counseling groups in the area. Dean had flinched when the topic was broached, glaring silently at Sam and Gabe as they sat across from him on the edge of Meg’s bed. He’d reluctantly agreed to Sam setting up a session with a therapist for him for the day after they got to Bobby’s, saying it was better to start now rather than later. He’d been particularly disagreeable about the idea of attending a rape survivors support group. They silently agreed to bring it up again after they at least got him through his first few therapy sessions. Sam told Cas later that night, after Gabe left and Dean was asleep that the first time around Dean had refused therapy completely. It’d been through his and Bobby’s own research that they found a method to get Dean out of his depression. They’d signed him up for an introductory college art class, the sketchbooks filling rapidly after that with pages of practice sketches and dreams. It’s been the best decision they’d made. Sam was adamant about getting Dean into proper therapy this time, though, because it was more than just physical assault, it was sexual and mental as well, and lord knew Dean had enough guilt from the first round to warrant therapy for a lifetime. 

The drive to Bobby’s was a long, slow one. They had decked out the back of the van they were using to make a massive nest on the floor for Dean to lay and sleep through the ride. They made it a two day trip, taking breaks periodically to get out, stretch their legs, and get Dean out of his nest. He was grumpy and irritable about it the whole time, not allowing anyone but their tag along nurse to handle him in and out of the car and around what ever parking lot they stopped at. The strength in his legs was coming back slowly, but it was clear he’d probably benefit hugely from a professional physical therapist. Sam was already researching clinics in the area, making an appointment with a major hospital in the area for a physical and assessment of the more serious damage, as well as for some blood tests. They were all scarily aware that none of the men from that video had used any kind of protection.It was a nauseating necessity that they all knew Dean would hate going through. They were going to have Meg and Dean’s new therapist be there with him when they went in, just in case. None of them knew what to expect from Dean in that kind of situation. Not even Meg. 

She would be staying on as their resident nurse for the next two weeks to monitor Dean’s physical recovery process in a home setting. She’d been urging the move back to a home setting as soon as possible in order to facilitate the healing process. They’d agreed after a lot of deliberation that it would be best to have Dean stay at Bobby’s for a few months instead of back as his and Michael’s apartment. They all worried it might be triggering to have him back there too soon, considering the evidence of struggle from the last time he’d been there. They wanted him to make the choice himself to move back. Bobby had agreed instantly to let them all stay as his place. Michael would take care of the apartment for now, like he had been, having renewed the lease for the coming year because none of them were sure it was a good idea to be moving anywhere new just yet. Dean being gone during prime apartment searching time, too had kind of skewed their original plans to look for a place together. 

Michael had skyped them one night, hesitant to have Dean see him. Once he’d pieced it all together that his uncle had definitely been involved in some way with the abduction due to his photograph he’d been wallowing over his own relationship to someone that could do such a thing to another human. He’d been keeping in touch with them through texts the whole time, letting them know his Uncle Zachariah had gone missing from his company they day after the rescue. Hiding his own tracks no doubt. They’d told Dean that Michael would be calling, and when the man came on screen, Dean had grabbed for the laptop with fumbling hands, forcing his way into the camera. They’d all sat in worried silence as Dean just seemed to stare at his roommate, expression unreadable but his gaze shockingly intense. He seemed to be studying Michael’s appearance, running through an internal dialogue with himself for five solid minutes. Michael didn’t say a word, eyes wide and scared of what Dean would say. When Dean suddenly turned his eyes to the keyboard, focus determinedly angry looking, and punched in three words to the text window, they all got their answer with each slow, awkward tap of the keys by splinted fingers.

Celery, Wheat, Mauve. 

Michael’s confused expression had startled a laugh from Meg, who’d been watching from a distance. The soft sound broke the spell and Michael’s expression softened, lips curving up into a tiny, sad smile as he finally breathed out a small sounding “Missed you too, buddy.”

Dean hadn’t said or tried to spell anything else for them as they talked. He had, surprisingly enough, stretched out on the bed and rest his head right besides Cas’ thigh, watching the screen in Sam’s lap where he sat on the other side of Cas with a soft hint of a smile on his relaxed face. It was the closest he got to laying against Cas since that first night. It had sent waves of hope and relief through Castiel while also digging in that shard of jealousy he got from not having his own colors. He felt like he was missing out on some sort of emotional connection healing the words offered as a bridge between each recipient. 

The first night back at Booby’s was exhausting for everyone. Once inside of the familiar place, Dean had gotten a helplessly lost look on his face, eyes going big and glassy and so vulnerably young. They’d all kind of floundered, uncertain what to do as tears suddenly sprang to his eyes. Bobby had been the one to catch Dean as he seemed to crumple over onto his knees on the floor. He leaned into his father figure and sobbed helplessly for fifteen minutes straight, shaking like a leaf the whole time but not pulling away from the older man’s embrace. Afterwards he’d holed himself up in his old bedroom, refusing to let anyone touch him or stay in there with him. 

He’d only allowed Cas in when he came to get him to eat, the plate more than half full when he pushed it away despondently. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he wasn’t doing okay, rolling over so his back was to Cas and wrapping tight into the nearest pillow, body trembling every few seconds. Castiel didn’t have a fraction of a clue what was running through Dean’s mind, but he knew it wasn’t good. His initial reaction to being at Bobby’s made it all the more shocking when the early the next morning he came downstairs to find Dean sitting alone at the kitchen table, staring out the nearest window. He was silent, exhaustion deeply set in his eyes, bags and bruising looking permanently etched around the green of his iris. 

He was dressed in baggy sweatpants, with what looked like one of Sam’s older cotton button downs on. It swamped him, more than Cas thinks it normally would because of the sheer amount of bulk he had lost. He hadn’t been starved, which was a miracle all it’s own, but it was becoming clear that Dean had a hard time dealing with food mostly because of lack of appetite and the sheer amount of flavor of the foods he was trying to eat. His ribs weren’t protruding, though he was noticeably smaller, stomach pulled in more, definition gone to be replaced by bruises and scars. His arms had lost years of built up muscles, and his legs were frailer looking, less toned, softer from lack of use and abuse. 

The loose cotton was soft, worn from age, and probably gentle on Dean’s recovering skin, allowing it to breath. It hung loose around his shoulders especially, wide enough at the neck to clear show the edge of the bandaging around his middle and back, and the yellow-green of bruises around his neck and down below the bandages, as well as the edges of sickeningly still purple-blue of the bruising on his left shoulder. Which he had been avoiding putting any weight on at all whenever he ended up laying anywhere or leaning against anything. He also avoided moving that arm the most, though it was still functionable. Meg had explained that he was smart not to push it. The dislocation had caused a lot of swelling and inflamation, and though it had been put back in place, the continued abuse had kept it constantly irritated. Most of the bruising, too, she said came from that final night from all those hands tugging and manhandling him around, pulling him against his bindings and pressing onto his shoulders and back without a care. It sicked Castiel to the core every time he saw the still purple color because he could visualize each of those hands on his lovers skin in sharp, crystal clear detail. He wanted to find all the men involved and cut off their fingers one by one until they were nothing but stubs. Wanted to shoved them into places they’d not hesitated once shoving themselves into Dean. He wanted to twist wire around their wrists and pull it tight until the metal was embedded into bone, and then he wanted to slowly saw off their dicks and make them choke and gag around their own cocks. He wanted to wrap his arms around their necks with their manhood caught in their throat and just squeeze until blood was pouring from their noses.

It took Castiel a moment to come back to himself, having stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor just looking at Dean. He was drawn out of his daze and overwhelmingly hateful thoughts to find Dean’s eyes on him, head tilted in silent contemplation and question, eyes lowered and slightly lidded as he peered at the frozen man.

A flush spread over Castiel’s cheeks as he realized himself, hanging his head in apology and shame. He hadn’t meant to stare, but it was hard not to. There was too many vivid reminders of Dean’s hell. He twisted his fingers anxiously, fearing he had made Dean more uncomfortable, hoping his staring eyes hadn’t reminded him of other men, of Alistair watching from the armchair. 

He shuffled awkwardly over to the kitchen counter, making himself a piece of toast because he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of food in his mouth. Maybe thats why Dean seemed so reluctant to eat every time he was brought food. 

He brought the sloppily buttered bread over to the table and took the seat across from Dean so as not to crowd his space any. He had to fight the desire to be as near to Dean as possible, the urge to kick his leg out just a littler further and have his foot rest against Dean’s ankles. He had to stifle the habits that had become so natural to him throughout their relationship, and it was killing him. He hated knowing even a small brush of fingers against the back of his hand could be potentially triggering. Everytime he saw Dean flinch away, he had to fight down the surge of rejection, had to remind himself it wasn’t on purpose, that it wasn’t because Dean hated Cas. It was because he was still conditioned to other men touching him and hurting him. If nothing else, the little unconscious flinches were Castiel’s biggest clue as to how deeply the scarring had gone. 

He ate through his first piece of toast in silence, not daring to look up at Dean. He didn’t know what would be worse; looking up and having Dean be turned away, or looking up to find Dean’s eyes still tracking him. Halfway through his second piece, he couldn’t take not knowing, jerking his head back fast enough to almost whiplash himself, eyes huge as they focused on Dean. Dean’s head was tilted just slightly, eyes lazily seeming to track him curiously. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all, and his mouth floundered open when he saw a gentle smile curve Dean’s lips as he stretched out his right arm across the table, palm up and fingers curled out for him. He’d removed the braces from all but his index finger, the others still wrapped lightly in white. 

Castiel blinked across at Dean, taken aback by the offer, the ease of the gesture. After the way he’d been the whole day before, this was too good to be true. He hesitated, bringing his hand up above the table, hovering about the wood before curling and pulling back towards his chest. He frowned deeply, squinting at Dean with hesitance clear in his eyes. “Are you sure?” He whispered out softly, heart hammering against his chest painfully. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and just touch, feeling their palms pressed against each other again. He wanted to be able to touch more than just the tips of Dean’s fingers, fingerprint to bandaged finger print. 

Dean nodded slowly, extending his hand further, opening the the offer further by tucking his thumb out to the side, exposing the palm more. He mouthed his request in silence. Hold.

Color darted up along his cheek bones as he gaped at Dean, blinking rapidly. “L-like...like palm to palm? O-or just...just the tips again…” 

Dean’s eyes sparkled with amusement for amount, and it was the most beautiful thing Castiel had seen in a long time. The subtle nod of his chin towards his hand was answer enough and Castiel wasted no more time reaching out and pressing his palm to Dean’s, lightly curling the length of his fingers over the edge of his thumb, his own ending up settled over where Dean’s pulse would be felt if it weren’t for the stiff bandaging around his wrists. 

He swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry, eyes jumping up to Dean’s face to track his reaction. He was terrified it would be too much, too soon, but the look on Dean’s face was not one he expected. His lips were curled down in an unconscious seeming frown, lips slightly parted, his brows furrowed just slightly as though he was thinking hard on something. His eyes had taken on a faraway look, but he wasn’t flinching or trembling, or fighting off what looked like the urge to vomit like he usually did. 

After a few minutes of tense silence, Castiel couldn’t help but break the silence of the early morning atmosphere. “Dean?” He questioned in a hush, unconsciously keeping his voice as low and soft as possible in order not to wake the other sleeping occupants, and so as not to spook the in front of him who’d looked like he’d been sitting alone for a while in the kitchen as the sun slowly rose and flooded the room with the first touches of daylight. 

A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitched, and then his eyes were clearing, expression softening to a neutral pout as he tilted his head back up towards Castiel. He blinked a few times, tongue darting out to wet his lips in a slow, hypnotic swipe; seemingly taking his time touching every crease of his dry lips. 

It took Castiel a moment to realize that Dean has wrapped his own fingers gently up around Castiel’s own hand, thumb pressing gently against Castiel’s trackable pulse. He blinked down at their joins hands in silent amazement, not sure what to do with himself. This felt revolutionary, groundbreaking, and unreal. A miniscule fragment of what they’d had before, but suddenly something so much more important that all the casually, learned touches. 

When he looked up again, Dean was there waiting to catch Castiel’s eyes. He startled Castiel even more by brushing his thumb in a small barely there line across his pulse, like a caress, when he wasn’t looking. 

“This is okay?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Dean’s expression was serious, focused, soft but calculating. He nodded once.

“You’re not flinching.” 

Dean’s lips quirked up at the side in a flicker before settling into a little pout of consideration. He shook his head no.

“Are you…” Castiel hesitated, glancing to their hands again. “Are you okay? Right now, I mean…” He flushed, knowing it was a stupid question. 

Dean didn’t respond for a long moment, seeming to take the question seriously, contemplating the proper response. The small shake of his head made Castiel’s heart twist in disappointment, knowing he’d expected too much, too soon. It was almost relieving to see Dean acknowledge it, though, not try to deny it. 

Wetting his own dry lips in a quick dart of tongue across pale, chapped pink lips, he braced himself for some invisible something he expected to feel in a moment. He didn’t know what, but something felt significant about his choice of question right now. Dean wouldn’t answer verbally, but he might not have to. Castiel felt like there as one chance not to make the wrong choice and ask the wrong question. He breathed in slowly, regulating his breathing as he maintained eye contact with Dean, trying to read into the undecipherable depths of his weary eyes. 

“Will you be?” He dared to ask, hoping it wouldn’t break this spell like moment of clarity and peace. 

Dean’s lips curved just slightly again, a little smile and then frown, eyes lidding slightly as he seemed to narrow his focus more intensely on Castiel’s face. It took a moment before he gave a slow nod, seeming to have found his answer in whatever he’d seen in Castiel’s eyes. 

He waited five minutes before he could dare to say more, though their gazes never faltered, the touch never differed. “Where does it hurt the most?”

Dean’s eyes seemed to flickered far away for a moment, making Castiel fear he’d ruined it, broken the moment. He sucked in a sharp breath, expecting Dean to pull his hand away now, leave it feeling empty and cold again. He had to stop himself from tightening his hold on instinct and squeezing the hand in his to make sure it stayed in place. When Dean’s left hand moved though, instead, bending up towards his own chest, Castiel couldn’t help but shiver with relief and sorrow as he saw Dean press his palm flat against the center of his chest, over his heart. 

“Oh, Dean…” Castiel’s breathed shuddered out of him, tears prickling his eyes. He wanted to make it better, wanted to shoulder some of the burden for him. Instead he offered Dean a heart breaking smile, eyes glistening as he brought his own free hand to his mouth, pressed a lingering kiss to the tips of his fingers, wet eyes on the hand over Dean’s heart. He let his hand fall back to his lap again after a few seconds, looking up to Dean’s face again to see if he understood. The precious little scowl on his face said he did, and it almost made Castiel laugh at the look of angry longing lighting his eyes. They both knew it’d be too much right now, even the ghost of a kiss, but Dean understood the sentiment and craved it, craved being able to let himself allow something so gentle. 

Castiel’s let out a soft huff of breath, lips quirked up in a twist of a smile for a moment as Dean looked back in question to his reaction. “Next time.” He said gently, brushing his thumb lightly against Dean’s bandaged pulse. “Next time we’ll do it for real.”

Dean’s lips twisted down in a lopsided frown as he screwed up his nose a little, pouty lips parting on a breathless huff of his own. He gave a single determined nod, eyes passionately bright as the spell around them broke at last, easing away into the silence of the morning as they sat there hand in hand, watching the light spill in through the windows. Dean’s eyes tracked the path of the light almost hungrily, a shiver of pleasure seeming to caress him as the sun finally landed on his face, nearly blinding him from the angle of the light coming in to the window. The warmth and the bright glare seemed to ease away a little of the tension that had entered back into Dean’s form from his own thoughts, seemingly stripping away the darkness of his mind for a moment as he squinted into the light with all the intensity of a lovers gaze. Castiel hand to bit down hard on his bottom lip for a moment to stop the completely inappropriate flare of arousal that look on Dean’s face gave him. 

They stayed together like that until at last they heard someone else waking up, Sam and soon after Meg and Bobby coming down as well, each eyeing the scene with hopeful curiosity. None of them commented, instead making themselves coffee and breakfast. Bobby even went so far as to whip up a batch of plain egg whites for Dean, setting it in front of him without comment after they finally parted hands across the table to make room for the others. A second plate of scrambled eyes set in front of Cas, too, made him helplessly grateful for Bobby’s loving understanding to everything he did. Dean finishing the full plate helped Castiel’s own appetite return and finished his own helping with pleasure, even nibbling at the cold remnants of toast as he basked in the healing power of Bobby’s house. It had been a good decision coming here.

There were still panic attacks and moments of intense, overwhelmingly helpless bursts of emotion that random things in the house brought up throughout the day, but it was clear to see the cleansing quality the random emotional outbursts had on Dean. He didn’t shut himself up in his room, though it was clear he considered it a few times. He would drift slightly between rooms whenever he had the energy to stand up, seemingly moving without meaning to and finding himself hovering by the stairs, or in a random dark corner suddenly. He’d wind his way back to the sunniest spot he could find each time, moving whatever chair he was sitting or laying in into the lights direct path. He went back to avoiding touch for the remainder of the day, offering Castiel touch once more before isolating himself to his bedroom in the dark of the night by brushing the tips of his fingers over the back of Cas’ hand as he walked past, deliberately not looking at what he was doing as he walked past. He only allowed himself to look back at Cas when he got to the doorway leading into the hallway, pausing and glancing back to see the achingly appreciative look on Castiel’s face. Dean seemed just that little bit more human, more healed by the end of the first day, even though it had been a rough emotional ride. Being around Bobby seemed to settle Dean, though, his eyes focusing on the older male as he drawled on about some such things Castiel had never heard of before. His voice seemed to sooth Dean, maybe reminding him of the last time he’d been through this - reminding him of how much he had helped the last time. If nothing else, focusing on him seemed to keep Dean out of his own head, even if just for a minute. That was one more minute Dean wasn’t trapped in the darkness of his own experiences and the horrors the aftermath were creating in his mind. 

Castiel was so hopelessly indebted to Bobby. He remembered sitting there the last and only other time he’d be to Bobby’s and hearing Dean confess to nearly killing himself. He remember the passionate story of Bobby’s love pulling Dean back from the edge, stopped him from pulling the trigger. He’d felt indebted then, but now he felt like he owed the man his every waking moment as praise and in repayment to him for the pureness of the love he held towards his ragtag adopted family. It was all the more significant now that Castiel had seen the other father figure Dean’d been subjected to growing up. It was blindingly unfair that Dean hadn’t be rescued from the man sooner. The easy way in which Bobby just accepted Dean completely and without comment was worth the amount of worship and idealizing Dean put on the older man. Bobby hadn’t even batted an eyelash when Dean showed up with a boyfriend on his arm and passionately made out with him in random nooks and crannies around his house. He hadn’t made a single negative comment, or scathing backhanded remark. It was like a day and night difference between the two father’s approaches to their children. 

It cast so much understanding on Castiel’s perceptions of Dean’s life recovering and finding happiness here those years ago, and why the thought of these walls had always made a little smile curl up the sides of Dean’s lips and light up his eyes. The messy, cluttered junkyard and garage, and overflowing library and dusty bookshelves and bedrooms was a safe haven. A little slice of heaven on earth. Home.


	30. Chapter 30

Dean got the text while he was sitting in his therapist’s office. He was clean. By some miracle he hadn’t contracted any sexual diseases from his rape. The flood of relief that washed through him definitely didn’t go unnoticed either.

“Dean?”

He lifted his head from where he’d been staring at the phone in his hands. His eyes were dark with the beginning of tears, and he didn’t give a single shit if this mousy, androgynous woman across from him saw. He licked his lips, unprepared for the emotions that accompanied the news. He hadn’t been letting himself think about it, not letting the fear take root because he knew if he let it he’d want to rip his own face off to dig out the imagery that accompanied the thought. Clean. How ironic.

He sniffled, holding out his phone across the space between them. They were sitting in two plush, thankfully comfortable as crap arm chairs. Dean was still constantly exhausted, body finding new aches as others healed or dulled to slight throbs. His physical at the hospital had determined that he didn’t specifically need any professional physical therapy, but he did need to start trying to be more active to stimulate the reformation of old muscles. The doctor had said it’d get easier as the physical wounds and bruising began to heal more. They didn’t want him over exerting himself though, due to a few stitches he’d required and the scabbing all across his back and chest due to the many cuts there. The staff had been impressed by the level of care Meg had taken in a non-hospital setting and asked her to come in for an interview for a potential job offer.

His therapist took the phone cautiously, avoiding touching Dean’s fingers carefully, looking down at the screen and reading the text. A small smile curled up her lips as she set his phone down on the small side table between them so Dean could have it back. “That’s wonderful news, Dean.”

His stiff response, and turned away expression quickly caught her attention though, and her smile turned down. “You’re upset?”

He nodded once. They’d learned fairly quickly to communication in one sided silence. Dean was still refusing to speak, or perhaps unable to. No one was really sure which.

“But this is good news, isn’t it?” She asked patiently, watching for Dean’s responses.

He nodded his head again, wiping quickly at his eyes before glancing at her again. His hands, thankfully, were mostly better. They still ached and didn’t like bending or holding things, but they no longer required the many braces or bandages. The same couldn’t be said for the rest of his arms, though.

“You experienced a traumatizing sexual assault, Dean.” She expressed gently, having found out quickly that Dean didn’t enjoy certain terms being used when discussing his condition. It was hard to avoid every term though, so she tried to augment her tone and expression to ease him. “What happened was not your fault. It’s natural to feel dirty, unclean...” She watched him carefully as his green eyes stared back hesitantly. “Are you upset because of that?”

He didn’t move for a long moment, tension lining his features and his eyes. He stiffly nodded after a moment, teeth grinding together against the anger he felt at himself, for the angry tears that were ruining the news. His unpredictable awful emotions.

“Dean. I’m here for you to talk to, to let it out. I’m not going to judge or criticize your emotional reactions. You know that, right?”

Dean dropped his eyes to his lap, nodding reluctantly. He knew, but it didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t help that he felt trapped in his own mind, fragments of his personality from before scattered between the thoughts he had now. It was exhausting. It was like fighting a constant battle with himself, two sides of his brain battling for dominance - and the traumatized side was winning. It was too fresh, too memorable still. There hadn’t been nearly enough normal days between the him now and the him that was tied up and raped literally just days ago.

Two months. He’d scoffed when they’d told me. It felt like two years, and he was fighting to see an end result of the him now that was happy, able to push it all away and go back to living life in some semblance of normalcy. He’d wanted to laugh hysterically when Gabriel had sat across from him and explained to him why it had happened. Being reminded of that photograph made his skin crawl.

Hell, he still couldn’t even fucking touch Cas without cringing away at the feel of skin on his. He had to take it baby steps every time, slowly testing was he was capable of letting in. He didn’t know how Cas could stand it, how he could be so patient with it all. He could see the want in those eyes, the sorrow etched into the blue of his soul. He didn’t know how Castiel could be so perfect about it all.

Dean was just waiting for him to snap and tell him to stop being a wimp about, still waiting for him to ignore Dean’s mental boundaries and just take what he wanted, still waiting for Castiel to turn into a mixture of his father and Alastair.. As soon as the thoughts and imagery entered his mind Dean felt sick with himself. What kind of boyfriend was he to have such devastating thoughts about his lover? Especially when there was absolutely no proof Castiel was even capable of being so heartless. Hell, every time they’d fought in the past Castiel had been a perfectly reasonable bastard about it all, calling them both out on their shit, and having valid reasons for each second of irritation or frustration.

He twisted his fingers unconsciously in his lap, the feeling of worthlessness growing and growing inside him. He couldn’t stop it, not when his own mind was making him think negatively about one of the only things holding him together. He was just a piece of shit, that didn’t deserve their time, or their patience and care, right? Angry. Scared. Soiled. Ruined. Unclean.

What had he done to deserve it anyways? He’d practically let Alastair just do whatever he wanted. He’d been reckless and naive and should have known he’d never escape what he did in the past. How could his life be rewarded for taking another man’s life, afterall? How could he find peace after killing someone? How could the memory of Azazel’s blood gliding down his throat been so satisfying? It was no wonder karma was catching up with him. He’d enjoyed every second of killing Azazel, and he would would enjoy every second of killing Alastair if he got the chance. But that didn’t change things. He’d been weak. He should have fought harder in the bathroom, should have been able to take the bastard down with him. And now what? Alastair was free again, conveniently disappearing after one the most traumatizing nights of Dean’s life, leaving him trussed up to be found with cum and spit and blood all over his body. Soiled. Unclean. Unworthy.

He didn’t realize he was scratching at his bandaged left arm manically until he saw Rebecca moving towards him. He was vaguely aware of her voice speaking to her intercom, calling Meg into the room from where she always waited in the lobby to take him to and from the daily meetings. “Dean. Dean. I need you to look at me. I know you don’t like touch so you need to look at me right now. You’re hurting yourself. You need to stop. Dean. Please.”

His breath wheezed through him, vision dancing with black dots, and swimming all over the room. He could feel his right hand moving, his fingers moving rapidly back and forth. He didn’t feel in control though, unsure what he was even doing, unable to look and find out. His sides hurt, and his mouth felt parched. He felt hot all over, yet cold to the core. Worst of all though, his skin felt like it was crawling with maggots, infected and wrong. And he had to get them to stop moving, stop writhing in his arm and echoing their filth through him. He needed them to stop trying to swim their way through his veins, to his heart, to his soul. He didn’t want them to win, to get that far. He wanted it gone, the filth. What if they never left? What if they got worse and ate away at his insides, ate into him like Alastair’s hands, those men’s mouths, the whips and knives. The sound of the door opening and closing was distracting enough to get his eyes to snap up and to the newcomer.

Meg was in front of him instantly, gentle yet firm and familiar hands instantly going for his wrist. He could feel the swell of sudden panic as he watched her hands moving for him, his eyes following their path until they fell on his own hands. His already ragged breath hitched in his throat and his mouth snapped shut, air laboring through his nostrils. His eyes fell on where her hands held his now. His right hand was red with his own blood, nails dug into his own skin where he’d ripped the bandages from his arm in his need. There was blood and pus pooled around the tips of his fingers where they were suddenly shock still in his flesh. His panic over Meg’s touch was quickly replaced with numb disbelief, the feeling of things crawling within him suddenly gone. Small hands carefully coaxed his fingers from his arm.

“Dean, honey, I need you to focus on my voice. Focus on me, okay?” Meg’s head twisted around towards Rebecca who was staring on in horror. “Reb, I need you to go grab your medical supplies. Now.” She turned back to Dean in a flash, gentling her expression as the other medically trained professional hurried out to find one of the office med kist. “Dean. I don’t know what triggered this, so you need to bear with me here. You being mute’s a real pain in the ass right now, but I need you to focus on me. Talk to me. Even if the words mean nothing, just start talking. Get it out. Just let it out, honey. I’m gonna take care of you.”

She carefully pushed his trembling blood covered hand over to the edge of the chair as she spoke. “Hold on to the arm rest, okay? If you need to scratch just dig into the fabric, okay? I’m going to take the bandages off your left arm, so you need to stay still, work with me here. I’m just trying to help, so if it hurts, I’m sorry.”

She tracked the changes in his eyes as she got his hand on the armrest, smiling in relief as his expression twisted and his eyes cleared just a little, taking on the first hints of pain from what he’d done. “There you go. You know the drill, don’t you?” She encouraged softly, lightly removing her hand from his wrist as his fingers dug into the soft fabric instead of healing skin.

“You’re doing good. Baby steps, okay? You’ve got this. Breath in deep for me. You can start talking whenever you want, I’m not even going be looking, okay? You can say anything you need.” She turned her attention to Dean’s left arm, cringing at the sight he’d made of his own skin. The still recovering flesh still held deep marks and swelling from his bindings, the rope burn deep set and leaving twisting lines of red, pink and white skin, highlighted by varying degrees of blisters. There were small patches of pus filled bubbles still scattered in sections of his skin, and he’d aimed his unintentional self harm directly for what had been the most worrisome of them.

She started work on undoing the bandage along the length of his arm, knowing she’d have to redo it all anyways and needing to get the area cleaned off. She needed him in a bathroom, honestly, so she could rinse the blood and pus away. Spotting the doctor’s water bottle between them was good enough, though, and once she’s gotten the immediate area of ruined bandaging away she twisted it open with her teeth and poured it over the self made wound, not caring for the mess she’d make of the chair or his jeans. They were both already spattered.

“Oh god.” Rebecca’s voice from the door sounded weak, and when Meg turned to see her standing there with their medkit it was clear the therapist wasn’t used to seeing this kind of abuse on her patients. Though she was medically trained, and had been briefed on Dean’s condition, she mainly dealt with the psychological injuries of her patients. Not the physical ones.. “H-here. Let me just…” She set the med kit on her chair, opening it and pulling out some of the materials Meg would need without needing to ask. “I-I’ll go grab some towels and more water.” She said, rushing to get the needed supplies.

The next twenty minutes were worrisome as Dean sat there mostly unresponsive, eyes stuck on his hand on the armrest. He was gripping the edge of it so hard his knuckles were white where they showed beneath his own blood. Meg was worried he’d strain them again so soon after they’d just gotten better, but her focus was more on making sure he didn’t get an infection. He would very slowly cycle through a few words, expression far away and clouded, keeping his head turned away from them both. He didn’t flinch or panic as Meg worked, which was a blessing. Meg would treat his wounds every morning, and he would still have varying levels of panic attacks and have to breath through the initial contact, sometimes shivering the whole time. Her relief was tainted with worry as she worked, scared for his current headspace.

Once Meg had gotten the bandaging back in place, she moved to Dean’s stiff grip, easing his fingers lightly from the fabric as she cooed him into letting go. She washed his hands with the water and cleaned away the pus from under his nails. “There you go.” She said, turning her eyes up to Dean’s to see him watching her intensely, his expression pinched.

Sorry.

She sighed softly, patting his hand gently before backing up and removing contact from his skin completely. “Honey, you don’t gotta apologize.” She rolled her eyes slightly, sitting back on her heels. She glanced back at Rebecca who was putting the supplies they’d used back in the medkit. “Do you want to finish your session? You still have twenty minutes if you’re up to it. Might be good to try and talk about what just happened…” She proposed to Dean, hoping he would opt to stay. Seeing him like that so suddenly was unsettling and worried her. She didn’t like that he’d stepped over that line into self harm already, and wanted him to talk about it now before he got it in his mind that it was a coping mechanism he could perpetuate.

His scowl was fierce, but he hesitated, glancing to Rebecca. He looked back to Meg, lips twisted in uncertainty. He jerked his hand forward, back, and then finally towards his phone on the table where it’d been forgotten. He opened an app and tapped in a few words stiffly.

If you stay.

She licked dry lips, sighing heavily. “Are you sure?”

He nodded stiffly, focusing on his phone again, tapping out a new line.

Familiar. Safer. Easier.

She pinched at the bridge of her nose as she saw the words. She’d not signed up for this, but she couldn’t deny the desire to stay and offer her support. Living with Dean and his ragtag family was making her grow intensely attached to the recovering group, and she wanted to do what she could to ease their suffering.

“Okay. Okay...I’ll stay. But you have to try to actually tell us what's wrong, okay? Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been avoiding it. Even if you just give us a hundred single word descriptors, we’ll figure it out.” She got a slow, reluctant nod from Dean as his green eyes darted uncertainly back towards his official therapist.

“Okay.” She said, standing up, grabbing a chair from the lobby and bringing it back into the room, setting it besides Dean’s.

\---

Sitting on the porch, Castiel stared down at the notebook in his hands. It was one of his leftover notebooks from school, pages half filled with class notes and random poetics about Dean. The sun was intense on the page, making it nearly blindingly white where he sat on the steps, feet from the shade of the porch overhang. With Dean at his meeting with Meg, he felt lost, lonely. He found himself unconsciously seeking out the sunlight Dean thrived in. He was so focused on the pages in his hands, he barely noticed the door opening behind him, or Sam sprawling out on the steps beside him until he felt the larger man’s shoulders bumping his from where he took up what little space was left.

“What’re you reading?” He asked in a low tone, eyes lined with bags. It’d been a ten days since they’d gotten to Bobby’s, and each day was a new challenge for each of them. Castiel found himself forgetting, sometimes, as he stared at Dean, that he and Sam were undergoing their own recoveries. They had lived in near constant fear and worry for two months, minds running rampant with guilt and wild images. Castiel almost wished he’d written his speculations so he could compare the true results. The thought sickened him though, and he swallowed it down stiffly.

“It’s one of my school notebooks. British Literature.” He said, turning his gaze to Sam, a sad smile morphing his features. “We read Wuthering Heights at the beginning of this semester...before Dean-” He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and breathing through the imagery. Opening his eyes to slits he looked at the page open on his lap. “If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.” He quoted the words written in green between his notes. It’d taken him a semester to realize every time he read a quote that reminded him of Dean, he would pull out his favorite green pen and scratch the words across the page. He could remember reading the line in class and thinking instantly of Dean, imagining life without him and hating every second of it. He'd barely had to wait a month before his worst dreams came true.

“Catherine.” Sam said with a knowing nod. “I remember reading it in high school.”

“Fall semester, when I was still getting to know you guys...I...I found a green pen. A-at the coffee shop actually.” He smiled at the memory. “It was maybe our third or forth time meeting, and I can just...I can remember his smile so vividly, you know? I was shy, then...uncertain. God, we were constantly flirting and dancing around each other, weren’t we?” He laughed, tears stinging his eyes.

“Constantly.” Sam said with a small laugh of his own, a tender smile. “I think everyone in that shop knew before you guys did.” He teased.

Cas laughed softly, hiccuping on a sudden burst of sorrow in his chest. He cut off the sound with a sharp breath, a ragged swallow. “God, Sam. The minute I saw him I had butterflies...and then...it was like fate brought me back to him and he was there alone...and the words came so easily, for once. I was shy, but I was eager, too, and I wanted to impress him so badly...make him turn those green eyes on me…” He brushed his thumb across the green ink on the page.

“That first night at his place, after we started dating, on his desk he had a notebook right near the stack of books you and I had loaned him.” He brought his hands up to form air quotes. “ ‘ Quotes to Memorize for Cas’.” He felt a knot of pain ease with the lovely memory, how he'd remembered feeling so delighted and embarrassed at the words and the care put into each line written. “He’d been writing them out for weeks before we were together...from books we’d read and talked about together...from poetry books you’d left there for him.” He wiped at his eyes, fighting off the cascade of tears he knew was building. “I’d not been realizing it myself, even...but that green pen…” He focused on the words on the page. “Every time I found a quote that made me think of him, I would scrawl it between my notes in that green ink…and when I-I finally….when we were finally together I had an excuse, I started doing it on purpose, seeking these quotes outs...imagining our lives wrapped around these words.”

Sam’s hand settled on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “You guys are sickeningly perfect together, you know that?”

Cas let out a wet laugh, a sob escaping at the gentle touch. He buried his face in his hands, letting the tears wash out of him as he shook and hiccuped helplessly on the front steps. “I never...I never dreamed the darker quotes would apply, too.”

“Do you know what I always love about reading, Cas?” Sam asked gently, hand soothing up and down the expanse of Cas’ spine, offering him a reprieve from months without contact, trying to ease some of his ache. “The characters may not have been real, but they were human. Flawed, loving - with twisted lives and emotions that were all their own. They made me realize something about myself...something I think a lot of people forget about books. They might just be fiction, but they were written by people like us. We don’t know the lives of these authors, don’t know what loves and tragedies they’ve dealt with...but their words are their voice. A chance to cope, to change things, to project at times. I’m not saying Bronte was as recklessly in love as Catherine was, but I do think her characters can help us understand ourselves. Our own lives and loves.” He settled his hand and gently coaxed Cas to look up at him, his own face damp with tears. “The love you and Dean share is intense, and wild, and celestial. You guys are soulmates and best friends, and brothers.” He wiped a tear from the tip of Cas’ nose with a soft smile. “And you know what? No matter what situations the author of your lives put you through, I know you’ll make it through them. Together. With me right there besides you along the way to try and make the hard times easier. Dean might be damaged and lost right now, but I know he still loves you. With all his heart.”

“N-no.” Cas hiccuped, wiping his salty cheeks. “Not all of it.” He smiled gently up at Sam through the blur clinging to his lashes. “He does have a pretty awesome brother.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Sam said, ruffling his friends hair lightly, and a small flush of color crept across his cheeks.

Cas sniffled and straightened his back up, wiping determinedly at his eyes with both hands as his gaze focused on the page before him once more. “No, Sam.” He turned to look at the other male, reaching out and quickly hugging him. “Thank you.” He whispered heartfelt before slowly pulling away, looking back to his notebook. He flipped the pages to the first blank one and pulled that green pen from his pocket.

At the top of the page he scrawled out: Dean Winchester: Quotes and Colors.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappy and emotional and ow right in my feels. That's just a splinter in my eye, I swear.

Castiel stared down at Dean with a soft smile crinkling the edges of his eyes. His head was nestled on a makeshift pillow of fluffed up sheets, right by Castiel’s hip where he was leaning back against his headboard. It was early, maybe just barely creeping in on 6 am. Castiel had been woken up by the sight of worry lined green eyes peeking in uncertainly from the the hall. He’d called Dean in softly, rubbing at his eyes and adjusting to the dim light of the room. Dean padded over, feet bare, a large sweatshirt engulfing and hiding his body, legs baggy with loose cotton pajama pants. He made an adorable sight, sleepy and engulfed. Cas was pleasantly surprised when Dean sank down willingly to the edge of the bed once he was inside, laying out besides Cas without a word, eyes closing as his head hit the mattress by Castiel’s shoulder.

That had been an hour ago, and Dean was now staring silently at Castiel’s hip, where he’d sat up some against his pillows, fingers slightly curled into the bunched up sheets. There was a sad look of longing in Dean’s eyes that made Castiel want to ask what was wrong. He had a guess he already knew, remembering that soft spoken conversation in the kitchen weeks before. It was still weird to realize that time was still passing them by with each day. It had already been four weeks and still it felt like a fresh wound on all of their hearts. Scabbed over a little, perhaps, but still aching deeply. 

Castiel jolted slightly as he felt the tip of Dean’s nose brush against his skin, pushed in close to gently find that small sliver of skin where shirt and sweatpants met, his breath hot and moist against his skin. He let out a startled breath, blinking down at Dean. He wasn’t flinching, or cringing, or even shaking. His eyes were narrowed to slits, staring at the tip of his own nose where it touched skin. 

“Dean?” He asked softly after a few moments of silence and no reaction. His voice came out low and gravelly, and Dean shivered. His eyes closed, and suddenly he was moving, pushing himself up a little, and then suddenly plodding his head back down against Cas’ belly. Castiel let out a little huff of breath, from the gentle but heavy impact, and the sheer momunmentalness of the act. 

“D-dean?” He asked, terrified this would be too much. He didn’t want to be the cause of days of set back. Dean’d been getting a little easier with touch, lately, sitting nearer to his family, not cringing as much if one of them walked past. His eyes weren’t tracking them as frequently, and he would let Meg change his bandages with less of a fuss. It was incredible progress, and Castiel was relieved every time he saw the little things become easier. He’d been keeping a journal of each day, tracking Dean’s progress and his own reactions. He’d even taken to documenting each word Dean would murmur mutely, trying to find understanding in the silence. He’d caught Dean watching him with interest a few times, but hadn’t elaborated and showed him the booklet he was using. Sam had found him something smaller to keep in his pockets, and he carried it with him wherever he went now. 

Dean was silent, closing his eyes and then suddenly letting out a huff of breath that tickled Cas through the thin cotton of his tee shirt. He tilted his head, shifting so one arm was suddenly slung around Castiel’s waist, and his face was visible to Castiel where he sat and stared. A little smile curled Dean’s lips and it was breathtaking to see the light in those eyes. Not fear, but maybe something akin to pleasure. 

Castiel couldn’t help but let out a small, startled laugh, tilting his head as he peered down at Dean. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” 

Dean nodded slightly, getting another little laugh from Castiel in the heart of the morning, the sun slowly filling his room and caressing the edges of the sheets as they crept towards the two men laying together. 

They lay like that for ten minutes in silence, dozing lightly, until Castiel reached slowly, carefully for his journal on the nightstand, the pocket sized notebook sitting besides it. He tried his best not to jostle Dean, opening it to a new page and starting to write after a moment of checking Dean was still okay. He wrote for a while until out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean moving, reaching for the night stand, fingers touching the edge of the notebook and pulling it forward with the tips of his fingers. Cas bookmarked his current page with his pen, closing his journal and watching Dean bring the little book closer. He said nothing as Dean looked at the cover with a curious furrow to his brows, bringing the little book to lay on Castiel’s belly near his face, thumbing at the edges of it. It was obvious he wanted to look inside, but was hesitating opening it.

“You can look.” Castiel offered in a soft rumble, squinting down at Dean, trying to read his expression in the brightening morning light. Dean hesitated a moment more, glancing up to Castiel and searching for something in his eyes before his tongue suddenly darted out of his mouth to wet his lips. Castiel had to blink past the imagery, barely catching Dean open the booklet at last, having to tear his eyes away from the slick pink so close to his skin. 

Dean thumbed the first page open slowly, eyes tracking each word with a furrow steadily growing in between his brows. He startled Castiel by sitting up suddenly, reaching for a second pen on the dresser and crossing out a word on the page, scrawling in a second one besides it. Castiel blinked rapidly at Dean, unsettled by the flurry of movement. He was rarely this quick, or reactive to situations any more unless they spooked him. 

Green turned suddenly to Castiel’s gaze, that tongue peeking out the corner of his lips again before Dean wrinkled his nose a little. Still sitting up, he turned his gaze back to the pages in his hands, reading the words with the occasional glance to Cas and a scratch of words over Cas’ or next to them. Finally he held out the booklet to Castiel, eyes soft, almost worried looking. 

Castiel gently took the booklet, eyes not wanting to leave Dean as he looked to the first page. There was one word crossed out, replaced with one that Cas realized now had been a misinterpretation of Dean’s silent words. He flushed, turning through a few more of the pages. One page listed the colors Dean had listed for everyone, a single underlined heading under Cas’ own name with a question mark. Beneath it, in the blank space Castiel had left for himself was a single word. ‘Later.’ He glanced up to Dean, catching his eyes, seeing the way those green orbs were intent on his own face. He felt his flush spread down his neck, his ears burning. 

He kept going, looking through each additional page, surprised with some of the changes or single word comments next to Castiel’s own thoughts and words. His chest ached at some of the word, his eyes stinging with emotion as he reached the page from yesterday. Taking his pen from his other journal slowly, he brought it to the head of the first new page, writing the date and then scrawling a few words. He watched Dean track the pen, startled when Dean shifted up closer to his side, leaning against the headboard and Castiel’s side, resting his head on the edge of Castiel’s shoulder. He was stiff for a moment, before letting out a small breath and a nod. Not cured, but atleast a little better, Castiel thought. 

On the page before him were two words. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dean’s features crinkled when he saw them and he looked up at Castiel with a slight hitch of one brow up in question, shaking his head and mouthing his first word for the morning. ‘Why?’ 

Castiel closed his eyes, breathing through the urge to reach for Dean and just pull him in, wrap around him and hold him close forever. He wanted to be able to reach out and cup that strong jaw, to caress away the bags under his eyes, to brush back the tips of too long hair. 

“For not finding you sooner.” He whispered into the silence of the room, shivering at the surge of emotions in his chest. God, he’d been such a failure. “I promised you…” He sniffled, blinking open his eyes to look over at Dean, unable to help the little watery smile. Despite how shitty he felt, just having Dean so close again was like a soothing balm. It felt unreal. He didn’t want the moment broken. He didn’t want to go back to Dean not being able to touch him, but he couldn’t stop the pain filled words from escaping. “You’d told me so little of what had happened...and I’d been so curious, so ready to jump in headfirst, to see it first hand. I thought it couldn’t be nearly as bad as I’d imagined. I mean, I’ve read so many stories...and I thought...I naively thought I’d be ready if anything ever happened. That it’d be like the stories where you just timelapse into the future and it’s all better. I made you that promise over and over and you must have known the whole time...that I was too hopeful.” He bit at his bottom lip, trying to quell it’s trembling. He hadn’t meant to cry, to get this emotional. He’d just wanted to say sorry.

Dean’s hand reached slowly up and then to Cas’ cheek, cupping lightly, brushing a thumb across Castiel’s wet cheek. ‘It’s okay.’ He offered a smile of his own, though it was noticeably tinged with sadness. He let go of Cas’ cheek too soon, reaching for the little notebook again and writing out a few words. ‘I was naive, too. I thought…’ His words halted for a moment, and he screwed up his nose slightly on a sniffle before plowing on. ‘-I thought it’d be the same as before. I thought I could handle it.’

“Dean...it’s okay.” He whispered, not wanting to turn this into some sort of sick twisted apology Dean thought he owed. 

‘It’s not.’ The next words scratched messily in Dean’s haste to get them out. He was practically glaring at the page, not looking to Cas. ‘He used you against me.’ The words were written in a shaky hand, with a single tear dripping down Dean’s cheek at the silent confession. ‘He hated us. You.’ He sniffled roughly, brushing his fingers hurriedly across his eyes, to clear them, eyes set in a grim determination. ‘He hated you, and it was unbearable, because he tried to make me hate you, too. And I couldn’t, and every time he saw me fight his words he wo-’ 

Castiel couldn’t help it, he knew it might be overstepping their boundaries, but he had to; He wrapped his arm around Dean’s back, pulling him into the curve of his side, settling his palm on the dip of Dean’s hip, the other reaching up to card through his hair as he tucked Dean in close to his neck. “Oh god, Dean.” He shuddered out hoarsely, overwhelmed, burying his tears in Dean’s hair, trembling in sync with Dean. He didn’t know if it was too much, too soon, but Dean didn’t pull away. Instead he pressed in closer, wrapping his own arms around Castiel after a moment, holding too tight. 

“I-I’m s-so sorry.” He gasped out through his tears. “God, I’m s-so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I c-can’t ima-” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s temple desperately, carding his fingers through the thick locks. “H-He didn’t win. He h-hurt you, but he didn’t win. He didn’t. You were too good and pure and bright for him. He could never win.” He ranted between little kisses to Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry. For being dumb and naive and not understanding. For still not understanding. I-I never will, and I-I can’t do much for you, but I won’t ever hate you. Ever.” He promised vehemently. “I would rip my own heart out, first.” He hissed.

“You’re mine.” He nearly snarled, startled by his own possessiveness, worrying it would be too much for Dean. “More importantly, I’m yours.” He amended, gentler, trying to gentle to twisting emotions in his gut. “And I won’t let them have you again. Never again. I won’t let go. Ever. I love you too much.” He pressed his lips to Dean’s temple for a long moment as he breathed through the torrent of emotions. “I love you and if you go down, I go down with you.”

“I promised you we’d burn together, if it came to it. And I’m not burning yet, so neither are you. Okay? You’re not burning. You’re not. You’re just caught in a storm, just a-a storm. It’s caught us, and our wings are just hurt and t-too heavy with water. We just need to dry them out in the sun. Right? In the sun...” He looked up, over the top of Dean’s head, to the light flooding the room. It was bright, and the edges of the sunbeams were hitting their feet now, warming them gently. “We just gotta dry off and wait for our feathers to grow back and then we can soar together again.” He whispered, fingers absently caressing the little jut of Dean’s hip as his fingers brushed the base of his skull. 

Feeling Dean shift drew his attention to the man he’d pulled into his arms, terrified of what would be on Dean’s face when he looked up, terrified they’d be haunted and scared of him. He held on tighter, despite himself. He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t. 

Green peeked up through dark lashes, hesitantly flickering from Cas’ chest to his face before he was leaning up, sliding his own fingers into Cas’ hair and pulling him down for a kiss. It was gentle and tender and wet. Their tears were spilling down their cheeks and catching on their lips with each careful press. Dean’s hand brushed down the side of Cas’ head, cupping his cheek as he pressed reassuring kisses to Castiel’s mouth, his tongue licking away their salt. It was so gentle, so soft, and Castiel held his breath through most of it, staring wide eyed at his boyfriend’s face as Dean tilted in subtly, angling their lips together, eyes lidded with fern green peeking out and up at him. 

Dean pulled away after a moment, eyes closing as he breathed through a few pants, tongue darting out to taste the tears on his lips as his breath tickled Castiel’s mouth. He was holding his breath, waiting for Dean to freak out, to pull away completely, to decide it was too much. His heart hurt so badly, expecting the worse, an aching chasm in his chest, but praying for the best. He’d settle for just a hair on the side of okay, even. God, he just didn’t want Dean to have pushed himself too far, for himself to have been the catalyst. He wanted to cherish this leap of faith Dean just offered him in the silence of the early morning.

It was a long moment before those golden brown lashes curled up, away from freckle dusted cheeks and focused on Cas’s neck before darting up suddenly. Castiel sucked in a startled breath, blown away by the swirl of color settled on his face. Dean’s eyes were intense, focused, his teeth dragging his bottom lip across his top row of teeth. They were lined with dark, forest green, the centers bright and almost gold like Sam’s hazel flecks, an array of shades between the two extremes. He brought a hand up without thinking, caressing Deans cheek and brushing his thumb across the lid of one eyes. He sees Dean’s lip quiver before the older man is leaning forward again, kissing Castiel hot and fast, tongue darting into his mouth, this time, tasting his morning breath and the remnants of last nights minty toothpaste. He pulls back just as fast, face flushed. He pulls back physically, this time, too, leaving Castiel wanting more, craving the simple contact. He let’s Dean go, watches as he sits up, eyes finding the notebook once more as he looks down at the words he’d written before. He skips a line, grabs Castiel’s pen, since the one’d he’d been using disappeared between them, and wrote out a few more words.

He closed the book before Castiel could read it, pressing it into Castiel’s hands gently before pulling back, sliding off the edge of the bed. He hesitated once he was standing, fingers slightly light touching Castiel’s hand where it rest by the edge of the bed. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, eyes darting all across Castiel’s form and over each of the features of his face before he nodded to himself, squeezing Castiel’s hand tight before heading out of the room without another word, his hair a mess from where Castiel had run his fingers through his locks. His barefeet barely made a sound as he crossed the room, opened the door, and then glanced back at Castiel. He paused, half in the room, half out, hand on the door jamb. He stared for a moment, before nodding again, offering a shy little smile, and then ducking out into the hallway.

The moment the door clicked shut softly behind Dean, Castiel sat up straight, looking to the notebook in his hand, opening it in a rush to the last page used. He felt tears swell up into his eyes as he read the words over and over, his chest aching with the thundering of his heart. 

I know it hurts. But I still love you.  
Always and forever.


	32. Chapter 32

Dean stared at the reflection looking back at him, watched as his eyes pinched, his nose curled in disgust, and his lips twisted into a small frown. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers that were hanging loose on still sore hips. The skin there was a mottle of yellow and green, pressed deep into his bones and aching with every touch. The elastic stretch of the boxers would sometimes irritated the bruising, making the skin feel too tender. His hair was long, left to grow out more than he’d ever liked it. He had six glistening piercings in each ear; two lobes, and four in the cartilage curving up each ear in an arc. Sighing, he thumbed across one ear, and then the other. Testing if they were still sore. They were nearly fully healed, though the cartilage ones would take a while yet before he could change them. 

Pursing his lips, he glanced down the rest of his body, skipping the fading bruising, rather; tracing the cuts and welts and lashes. The tops of his hips, across the jut of hipbones, were red shiny lines, from nearly healed cane lashings. Alastair had found out quickly that Dean’s least favorite forms of torture were the whips or the canes. The humiliation of a beating like that was achingly reminiscent of his father’s own belting when he was a child. He hated the welts, hated the red itch, hated the deep aching it left throughout his body.

Green eyes jumped up instead to collar bones, seeing the fading cigarette burns, the healing heat blisters, and three scabbing, narrow yet deep gashes along the edge of his clavicle of his left shoulder. He saw blades being sliced in deep, against bone, rocking the barest bit back and forth in Alastair’s wirey fingers, in his loose grip. He had played with the blade like it was an absent distraction, speaking to Dean all the while as the metal opened him up just a little bit more with each rock forward. Dean found his mind blank as he thought back on those sessions; realized suddenly that he could barely remember the words. He'd been so blind with pain as he watched those lips moving. He shivered, wondering how he could forget the words when he was so sure they were all branded into the creases of his brain. 

He found himself chewing on his lip ring in his agitation, surprised by the piercing for a moment as he came back to the present. He let his tongue flick across his lips before he turned his eyes back to the mirror, studying his own face. He had bags under his eyes, and the green was almost murky looking. He had a few good days worth of stubble on his cheeks, and his hair hung over his ears, the back of his neck, and his forehead. It had grown fast without his regular buzzing, and a few months proof was there now. 

He thumbed at his lip piercing, remembering the tug of chains that were attached to clamps on his skin. He could remember the bite of metal teeth deep in the meat of his chest, surrounding his nipple and hanging on. Alastair would thumb and tongue at the metal mouths, jerking the chain lightly every so often to cause panic and pain to flare through him. Every time, he would worry that the skin of his nipple would tear open and off, or that his piercing would rip through his lip. It shot up his anxiety tenfold each time. The random little things Alastair would focus on would always do that; eat away at his sanity as his panic shot through the roof, terrifying him of every twitch and touch. Each little torture would cause Dean to panic. It was things like this that almost scared Dean the most (besides the lashings, that is). The deep cuts and the beatings and the stabs...that he could deal with. He could handle scale amounts of pain, sharp slices burning as other lines throbbed and made everything hot, but dully soothing. Repetitive. The bone crackers threatening to crush his toes, or the needles occasionally piercing through the skin around his eye brows delicately; like making lace. He feared the small focused moments of pain, the ones that wouldn't be fatal but often left the more sensitive of memories. He could feel those thin little needles, leaving barely there white dots of scars, as if he was laying there right now having it done. Looking close he could barely see them in the mirror. You’d have to know they were there to even notice them. He ached at the memory and ghosts of these smaller tortures, these anxieties that washed through his senses some days as if he was back there still, tied down beneath those ropes living through it all again. Threats to his senses, to his ability to walk away without fearing the loss of more than just his dignity, threats to his sanity. He could remember the warm press of spoons against his eyes, digging into the skin of his lids a little as that thin needle pressed through the skin just besides the hairs of his eyebrows and laced its way through to the other side of the brow, occasionally clinking against the metal blinding him.

He could hear the little clicks of dishes being washed from the kitchen, and shivered at the way it reminded him more vividly of the memory. He swallowed down the burn of bile the memory produced, clearing his throat as he got control of himself. He blinked back to his face, staring back at him in the mirror. He stood in silence for a moment, just panting heavily from the full body sensations he could feel ghosting through him. He didn’t want to look at the scars any more, didn’t want to think about them. He wanted them gone. He wanted the aches in his shoulder to go away, when he knew, deep down, his left would always feel the effects of his mistreatment. Maybe it would become one of those old weather aches that acted up, reminding him of the times before. A constant whisper of his past, perhaps. Time would tell. He didn’t want to see the evidence of the patterns of a mad man’s blade, didn’t want to think about the ugly red skin on his arms. He didn’t want to think about the multitude of little details marring his skin. He didn’t want to think about the big stuff, the little stuff, the mental stuff. He wanted to just be able to look in that mirror and see himself. Not a battered body. 

Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out in a huff, he turned his eyes to the buzz cutter he’d found hidden in the bathroom cabinets. It was probably the same one he’d used as a teenager, growing past the aches of his first tour through hell. He wrapped his hand around the yellow plastic and nodded to himself with conviction. Flicking it on, he set to work, buzzing on one of the longer settings. He vaguely remembered somewhat through the process that Castiel had really loved him leaving it just long enough to brush his fingers through, and the grab on in the heart of the moment. He let out a shaky sigh as the hair fell away, and his face became clearer in his mirror. He turned next to the shave cream on the counter and set to work, clearing his pale cheeks of long hair. His freckles stood out deeply against the pale of his cheeks, the red of his beard having hid them mostly from notice. He looked normal, again. He found himself staring at his mouth suddenly, and could remember the way they had looked stretched around red, staring into a mirror as Alastair had rutted against his back. He pressed his thumb to the ring of metal, and closed his eyes. He jerked it just a little, shivering through the jolt it caused. One last reminder. He twisted the ball around, unscrewing it and then slowly working the metal out of his skin. He frowned at the little red hole left behind, but could tell it wouldn’t leave an obvious looking scar.

Adjusting to the sight of himself again, he breathed through another wash of memories. He could remember the first time he’d seen his own face with that ring of metal in it. It’d been a random urge to get it down, and when he had he’d liked it enough to keep it. He'd liked to play with it with the tip of his tongue, liked the way it felt when he smiled because it had made him aware that he was smiling, again, at last. He’d gotten his tongue done a month later. He liked the feel of it against his teeth, on the roof of his mouth. It made a nice distraction, sometimes. Instead of gnawing at the inside of his cheeks and leaving them bloody and sore he would just chew on the barbell. He’d shattered a lot of tongue rings that way, but he’d recognized the therapeutic relief it offered.

The tongue ring would stay. It hadn’t been ruined. Dean looked to his ears and frowned, conflicted by the rings of metal. He thumbed down the curve of his right ear and shivered at the memory of that needle pushing through already hot, sensitive cartilage and skin. Closing his eyes, he shuddered out a small breath, thumbing the top four piercings open and carefully sliding them from his ear. It stung, and was sore, and the shell of his ear became red quickly. He eased the ache of the metal's absence once he’d removed them by holding a cold, wet rag against it, breathing through the storm of feelings it sparked. He could hear the sounds of someone watching the TV, and the soft murmur of voices talking on the phone. He thought it might be Michael on skype checking in on them. 

He distracted himself from the ache by thinking back on what had brought him to this point in the day. He had disappeared from the group after lunch, having needed his own time, needing a shower to cool off from the stick of the sun on his skin, his bandages sweating in the warmth of the summer sky. He’d sat outside earlier, watching Castiel as he wrote in the little book. He’d leaned in slightly, letting his knee bump Castiel’s as he tilted his head. They’d had a small, silent conversation about the sun. He could remember the look of understanding flickering in Castiel’s eyes as the small hints of revealed information were interpreted. He'd seen the sorrow wash through Castiel as he looked at the paper and read the heavily layered meanings in each of Dean's select few words. Dean tried not to let it twist his heart, but he hated causing Castiel any pain, and he had to swallow down the fear of seeing pity in those eyes each time he let him know a little bit about what was wrong, or what he'd gone through. There was never pity, just sorrow and worry and patience. 

He’d stayed in the shower until the water ran chilly, feeling a little bad because he was using so much water. He'd needed the steam to clear his senses, though, to clear his head of the haze it was in. He'd needed the burn to remind him of what he was free from, what pain he wasn't suffering from under this roof. He had needed the solitude from the others and their gentleness, their worried looks, their concern. He felt heavy, weighed down by his own mentality, wrong. He felt like an echo of himself. He’d been taking a lot of showers since he'd gotten out, and baths (which he would refuse admitting to if asked about it). He would sometimes escape at night, after the others were asleep, and go draw a bath for himself in the lower bathroom, not wanting to wake the others with the creaky pipes of the upstairs shower. 

The heat curling around him, the water holding him together or washing him away…he needed it. 

Today he’d felt wrong in his skin since the moment he’d woken up; the back of his neck itching, his hands anxious, his teeth grinding. He’d needed out, needed a moment to clear his head and figure out what was wrong. Reb, his therapist, had been coaching him on ways to meditate and breath to get through the turmoil of the raging emotions. He’d tried drawing, staring at paper for hours, but failed with each attempt thus far. He couldn’t bring his hands to draw anything more than black swirls, or outlines of nothingnesses. Feelings that couldn't be expressed in shapes. He tried writing, but he rarely got anything worthwhile written, always getting lost in himself between each word set to paper. In the past few days he would sit with Castiel and whisper subtle words to him, watching those fingers record each one. He didn’t know why, but even the emotionally draining conversations were helping them both vent, do what art and writing wasn't allowing him to do. It was becoming a way for them to both heal as a couple, to stay connected without over forcing the boundaries. It was helping Dean get used to “speaking” again, anyways. Or as close to it as his noiseless lips could muster. He would offer longer snippets, sometimes full sentences, rarely full paragraphs. It was becoming a way to gauge his thoughts for that day. He’d turn to staccato, short offerings, and single words whenever he was feeling especially awful. It helped Castiel know when not to push, when not to force more conversation.

He let out a soft sigh as the burn in his ears subsided, and he rinsed the washcloth again, getting it cool, and wiping at the red skin again lightly, holding for a few seconds, and then wiping again. He set it down after a moment, glad to see none of them came away bloody or infected. Thank goodness. He examined his reflection again, judging the left ear’s piercings with his teeth in his lower lip as he thought. After a moment’s hesitation he undid a single ring and pulled it free, leaving a space between the two lobe piercings and the three remaining cartilage loops. He soothed the slight throb as the blood rushed to the empty hole. He couldn't help wondering how long it would take for them to heal closed. 

Looking to the mirror, again, Dean took a step back, assessing his torso. Ugly, scarred, battered. But healing. He didn’t need the bandages anymore, nothing was infected or bleeding or open. He was knitting himself closed slowly but surely. He swallowed hard, staring at the roll of white in the open first aid kit. He could cover it all up, or he could just pull on his shirt, walk out there, and sit with his family as if his body wasn’t a hideous thing to behold. Letting out a ragged breath, he pulled on the loose white v-neck tee-shirt, one of Sammy’s. The cotton settled easily on his shoulder, loose around his neck and airy around his arms. It would breath nicely, and wouldn’t sit too close to his wounds. He slowly pulled on a loose pair of jeans as well, buttoning them but electing not to use a belt to keep them up. He didn’t really need one, and didn’t know if he could deal with the tight press of leather around him so soon again. He didn’t like the feeling of being restrained by his own clothes. He looked childlike in the mirror, wearing too big, too baggy clothes with a freshly shaven face, shower flushed cheeks, and short damp locks of hair. His hair looked wildly swept through, ruffled after the buzz cut. Even if he felt a little silly for wearing his little brother’s clothes, Dean liked it. He liked the feel, the flow, the look even. 

The simple weight of his family’s clothes on his back was like a blanket, warm arms holding him. He could imagine Sammy standing in the middle of a old motel bathroom looking sleepy and ashamed from having gotten sick on himself cause of too much candy. He'd had no clean clothes, and so Dean had gotten out of bed, helped washed him up and given him one of his own tees for Sammy to wear to bed. The pleasure in that version of Sammy had been so big, and the memory of the little boy beeming up at Dean with dimples on his cheeks made Dean ache. He cherished the memory, missed the simpler days. He missed being the big brother, being able to do little things like give Sam hand-me-downs. He missed those innocent, soft puppy dog eyes manipulating him all the time, making him go soft like butter, melting to the little boy’s every whim and request. He’d spoiled Sam, and he’d loved doing it. And he missed the soft smiles his brother had always given him growing up. After everything with Alastair and Azazel that first time, he’d seen those eyes darken, harden, and go stiff. He missed the innocence of those eyes. He missed Sammy not fearing for their lives, for Dean’s mental well-being. He missed feeling strong, feeling like he could protect Sam from anything. He’d failed, so many times, and now, too, every time he saw Sam he could see the sadness lining those eyes, the childlike fear and heart break. Dean had been Sam’s hero growing up…and now look at him. He was the weak one, the childlike one. 

Suddenly making up his mind, he wiped the corner of his eyes, tested his tongue against the empty hole in his lip, and nodded. He turned, bare foot, and left the bathroom. He padded determinedly towards the sounds of voices in the main area, pausing by the doorway to find Sam. He spotted him at the table still, Cas by his side. They seemed to have just gotten off a video with Michael, the sound of the hangup barely computing in Dean’s muddled mind. He focused on his target, and ignored Bobby at his desk watching him curiously as he headed towards Sam. He pulled the nearby chair up besides Sam’s, close, and sat facing him, hands curling in to the fabric of Sam’s jeans. 

He felt Sam and Cas’ gaze on him before he could lift his gaze to Sam’s, eyes wet around the edges. He sniffled, eyes searching Sam’s face rapidly, studying his expression softly, hesitantly. 

He tugged without realizing at the worn denim material, wanting Sam to turn towards him more. He watched as Sam slid uncertainty to the left and to the edge of his seat, his knee knocking Dean’s gently. He looked confused, worried, cautious, biting at his bottom lip. Dean was sure he’d probably asked what was wrong a moment ago, but he couldn't remember the sounds, or even sitting down. He was focused on one thing, only. Check on Sammy, make sure he knew it'd be okay. He reached up one shaky hand and touched the edge of Sammy’s long hair, lips twisting as he used his hand to flick back towards his own face. Short hair; as things should be, again. Good.

“Y-you cut your hair.” Sam said, stumbling for words, startled, taking in the slight changes on Dean. He noticed each empty hole, each remaining one, startled that Dean had removed any and also that he had kept any. He noticed the short hair, the clean shaven jaw, the lack of bandages beneath the loose shirt. His mouth went dry and he furrowed his brow. “What’s up, De?” He asked softly, trying to figure out the emotions in Dean’s green eyes. They were soft, but seeking something, and he looked so small in the seat before him. 

Dean’s lips quirked up slightly, and he brought a hand up again, touching Sam’s forehead, nose and chin in gentle succession. He seemed dazed at his own choice before he was smiling again, lips moving on one word. Sammy.

In a moment, Dean was reaching up, wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck, leaning in and pressing close to Sam in an awkward yet desperate hug. His head tucked in close to Sam’s neck, and Sam could only think to react by wrapping his arms around Dean and drawing him off the other chair and into his lap, holding him more comfortably and closer as his brother clung on to him. He didn’t understand what had come over Dean, what was compelling him to seek out this sudden full contact hug when he’d been struggling to let any one touch him besides Cas. Dean trembled lightly in Sam’s hold, but didn’t pull away or let go for a good five minutes, no wetness streaking Sam’s collar or Dean’s cheeks when he pulled away. 

He gently pat Sam’s cheek, a tiny smile lighting his face as he sank back in his own seat, retreating from contact again. He had a small flush on his cheeks, and he lowered his eyes slightly, looking to Cas at last, holding out a hand with a soft expression. Understanding, Cas passed Dean the pad and paper, and watched as Dean scrawled a few words down, glancing up at Sam and Cas as he did. He finished and stood up, closing the pen on the page he’d written on, and handed it back to Cas. He turned as if to go, before hesitating, looking back to Sam, and giving him a standing hug really fast, even going so far as to ruffle Sam’s hair as he backed away, looking exhausted, as he did most times after random emotional moments like these. He retreated back to his bedroom before they even thought to open the booklet.

Scrawled quickly across the page was written “I miss being your hero, being _Dean_. Big brother Dean. Thank you for still having faith in me, for accepting everything I am.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is....yet again heartbreaking. Prepare for some PTSD stuff, here.  
> Trigger warnings, and such. Dean's put through the ringer this chapter. 
> 
> Also, note, I am by NO MEANS an expert on any of this. I am making general assumptions and trying to vague my way through more of the medical/mental stuff for the sake of this story, so if there are any issues I apologize. My intention is not to shed a misleading light on how to handle any of these situations. 
> 
> Minor spoilers summary: Dead gets triggered by the fire of fireworks and then deals with some exposure therapy with Sam that brings up deep seated, misplaced guilt about their mother's death.

It was the Fourth of July when they finally realized just how far back Dean’s mental trauma ran. Everything had been going smoothly, they’d had Jessica come up to visit and see Sam after so long, they'd had a nice dinner outside, and things had seemed normal for the most part. Peaceful. Sam and Jess had been doing the long distance thing since Dean’s rescue, upon Jessica's insistence that Sam stay with Dean for a while, since family always came first and he was clearly needed there the most. They’d been calling and texting nonstop, and it was obvious Sam was starting to miss his girlfriend hardcore. 

Dean had taken it upon himself to fix his pining brother’s moping by sneakily texting Jessica from his own phone. They’d spent a week planning on how to surprise Sam and also making sure Dean didn’t react badly to a new person. They’d talked on skype messaging for a while as they set things up, and then graduated to calling and Dean getting used to Jessica’s voice again. It’d gone well enough that even the face to face call the next day was welcome. He’d even given her her own set of colors (Sunflower, Cherry, Peach) when the video first patched through, and he’d fumbled to try and console his friend when she started crying upon receiving them and seeing some of the damage translated on screen. He’d fumbled to type his responses as she choked up, and he'd known then that their plan would work just fine. He’d still been getting to know his brother’s girlfriend before the whole incident occurred, but her patience and kindness was a balm, and reminded him of Castiel at times. 

She’d come up on the 3rd, surprising them in the morning by knocking on the door. Dean’d planned for her to get there right when they usually were finishing up breakfast, and was the first one up to go answer the door, being trailed by four sets of very confused eyes. No one ever expected Dean to willingly answer the door. So when he returned to the kitchen with a short, golden haired girl trailing behind them, they all felt blindsided and overwhelmingly surprised. 

Sam had cried, picking Jessica up in a giant hug that lifted her from the ground. He’d even pulled Dean into a gentle hug once he’d set her down, crying through his words of thanks. She’s fit in instantly, and within the first two hours the rest of the Singer household residents came to realize just how much planning the two had gone through in order to make the surprise visit work out.

And so, the next afternoon when they were all setting up for their mini-fireworks show outside of Bobby’s, they didn’t even think anything off the triggers waiting to set Dean off. Sam and Jessica had set up the little packets of fireworks and sparklers. They sipped at some beers until the sun went down enough to see the fireworks properly. The first one went off with a little hiss and crackle pop that set Dean on edge. He’d taken up a seat on the porch, overlooking the yard, Castiel by his side in the other deck chair. His fingers tightened just slightly on Castiel’s hand where they laid entwined on the armrest, and breathed through the initial startle, finding it wasn’t so bad. He was able to breath through it, and actually enjoy the next two that followed. It was the fourth that set him off, though. Jessica eagerly flirted around her boyfriend, swiping the lighter from Sam with a confident swish of her hips, sashaying over to the next firework, a large round one that once she lit started shooting up smoke and flames as it hissed to life. All Dean could see, though, as she turned around to scuttle back and away was another blond haired woman surrounded by smoke and fire. 

It started with all his muscles locking up, and then he caught a whiff of the smoke in the air and it slammed through him with all the force of a sledge hammer. He doubled over as his breaths started to shudder out of him, lungs working overly hard to find fresh air, relief. His chest felt like lead had been poured into his lungs as he went hot all over, and then ice cold. His vision was swimming by the time his senses caught up with him, and he realized in his panic he had ripped himself away from Cas, jerked out of his seat, and ended up in the corner of the porch with his head between the slates, vomiting over the edge into the bush below. Even as the noise from the firework died down, and the smoke cleared away, he couldn’t stop the spinning nausea that had overwhelmed him. He kept gagging on nothing, choking on air as he tried to breath and not throw up at the same time. 

He had no understanding of time, his senses clogged with old memories and recent traumas. He was aware that the others were talking in soft voices, clearing up the fireworks. It took him a while before he realized Cas was sitting besides him, gently rubbing at his back and whispering nonsensically soothing words, trying to calm him. It was hard to break through the swirling anxiety and panic and come back to reality, exhaustion hitting him hard as he coughed up the spit in his mouth. His stomach was officially empty, and his throat burned with the acid that had choked its way up during the last two bouts of sick. 

He pressed his hands to his face, wiping at the wetness springing from his eyes and the snot and saliva on his mouth. He felt gross, muscles weak as they finally realized they could relax, that he wasn’t trying to cough up a lung anymore. He shuddered and slumped against the wall to his side, praising his own mindless foresight to move somewhere he could prop himself up. He didn’t know how long it had been or where the others went, and he didn’t have the energy to care. He did know that Cas was still right there with him, rubbing at his back soothingly. 

When the last of the images in his mind cleared, he reached out a hand blindly towards Cas, palm up. He felt more than he heard Cas shift a little, moving around so he was leaning against the slats of the rail and was facing Dean’s exhausted profile more. He gently twined their fingers together and soothed his thumb over Dean’s knuckles, not caring for how clammy Dean’s hand felt. It was no wonder, his body had kept flashing between overly warm to chilled between each hurl, and it had taken it’s toll on him. He felt like he was run over, and had no doubt he looked just as bad. He could feel his shirt clinging to his back, wet with sweat, and could feel the pulse of feverish heat in his cheeks. 

He managed to get his eyes open after a while, turning to look over at Cas with a frown.

“Hey.” Cas said softly, drawing Dean’s hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his knuckles lightly. “You feeling any better?” 

Dean nodded weakly, his eyes fluttered closed again as he worked through the dizziness, able to calm his breaths a little better now that he wasn’t suffocating on his own tongue. He mouthed a tiny sorry into the air, shivering as he felt a breeze hit his chilled skin. 

“It’s okay, Dean. You don’t have to apologize.” Castiel offered genuinely, gently settling his second hand over Dean’s, gently soothing his fingers between the stiff joints of his companion’s calloused hands. 

They sat in a heavy silence for a while longer yet before Dean opened his eyes again, shifting around before laying down in a tight ball on the wooden deck floor, using Castiel’s thigh as a pillow as he kept their fingers entwined purposefully. Castiel wanted to move him, make him straighten out or go inside, but he knew not to push him just yet, feeling the slight tremble in Dean’s muscles as he settled into the tight position. Instead, he loosened one hand from Dean’s grip and settled it in his hair, brushing through the locks rhythmically. 

Dean realized he had dozed off only after he felt himself twitch awake to the sound of the porch door opening. Castiel’s fingers were still soothing through his hair, and Dean didn’t envy how stiff they were both going to feel from sitting there so long. His eyes fluttered open to slits, and he peeked up to see Jessica hesitantly standing by the door.

“Hey, Cas.” She said in a whisper. “Is he alright?” 

Castiel’s fingers didn’t pause as he responded just as softly. “He will be...he wore himself out. Passed out a half hour ago.”

“Can I get you anything? Water, a blanket, a hard drink?” She laughed hollowly, soft voice weighed down with worry. 

Castiel let out a soft little huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think a drink would be wise.” He responded as his fingers brushed lightly at the edge of Dean’s neck, unaware that he was awake. “Water and a blanket might be nice though. His body really took a beating from that panic attack.” 

“D-do you…do you know what the trigger was?” She asked hesitantly, worrying her bottom lip. She felt oddly responsible, since she had been the one to light the firework. She hadn’t even considered how triggering fireworks might be. She’d thought it would be okay, though, since Dean’s PTSD wasn’t based around armed combat. Everything had been going so wonderfully that the ease of the rest of the day had made her forgetful. 

“I have some guesses, but I’m not really sure. I didn’t push him for an answer. It’s usually best to let him tell us whenever he’s ready.”

“I-I…” Her voiced faded off for a long moment before she cleared her throat softly. “I really…” She paused, seeming to think on her words a little more before ducking her head and continuing on. “I admire you. All of you guys, really. You’re...I mean...I didn’t have a bad childhood, or even a bad family. The opposite really. I was close to my brother and my parents...but...I don’t-” She sucked in a small breath, realizing she was ranting. “They wouldn’t have had any clue how to handle any of this, if it were me. They’re good people, but they’d be shit at this. At being so patience...so understanding….so loving. I mean…” She came over on soft little patters of feet and sat by the end of Cas’ outstretched legs, a good distance from Dean’s own body. “I’m really glad I met you guys. All of you. None of you deserve what’s been put on you, Dean least of all. I’m...I’m honestly just in awe of all of you guys. Especially you. I m-mean.” She flushed, licking dry lips. “I could see it the minute I first met you guys, and again tonight...the way Dean looks at you...and you at him...I mean- I’ve...I’ve never seen anyone with as much...not love, I know it’s that...but I think...I’ve never seen anyone with as much faith as you two have in each other. It’s...I know Sam isn’t religious, and I sincerely doubt Dean is either...but what Dean has? It’s...breathtaking. I see it in you, in Sam, in Bobby.” She smiled softly. “I’ve never understood the appeal of religion before, but seeing how much devotion Dean has inside of him...it makes me want to be more like him. More loving, more giving." She paused to collect herself, hands twisting in her shirt fabric. "It’s hard, though, because it hurts, and I try my best with Sam, but it’s really hard. You and Dean though...you...you guys make it look as easy as breathing. I thinks that's why I know he’ll make it through this. Loving someone is hard, but having faith in someone is even harder. And he kept his faith in you and Sam and Bobby. I know it will take a long time, but he’ll make it through this, and he’ll be better again, and he’ll be happy again because he’ll never give up on you and you’ll never give up on him.” 

She went silent, before gasping and stuttering out a hurried reply. “O-Oh! Cas! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Shit! I’m sorry.”

Dean peeled open his eyes slightly at that, feeling the stillness of Castiel’s fingers in his hair and the slight tremble in his thighs from his silent tears. “It’s alright, Jessica. I just wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt monologue.” Cas responded with a soft sniffle and a smile, hands letting go of Dean to move up and wipe at his wet cheeks “It’s been a long day, and I just…” He went silent as his eyes fell on Dean’s face, seeing his open eyes and the frown curving his lips. “Dean?” 

Dean bit at his lip, turning his face into Cas’ thigh, silently wiping his own wet eyes into the denim of his boyfriend’s thigh. He sniffled and then turned to look up at Jessica over Cas’ lap, reaching out a hand and taking her nearest one lightly. He tugged slightly, too exhausted to try to articulate what he wanted. She hesitated before shuffling a bit closer, biting at her lip hard as she met Dean’s exhausted gaze. He frowned, struggling to shift up Cas’ body a little bit, weak arms clutching at Cas’ shirt as he shoved one hand suddenly into Cas’ pants pocket, pulling the little booklet and a pen from it, not even thinking of how forward the action may seem as he slumped exhaustively across Cas again, shifting to free up his right arm and open the booklet. He swayed a little, having to close his eyes and breath through the dizziness before he could focus on the page again, scrawling out a message with jerky twitches of his fingers. He had to take a few breaks between words before he finished the page full of text, aware of the eyes tracking him with uncertainty and patience. He finally let the pen drop from his fingers, landing on Cas’ thigh as he turned a little again and held out the booklet to Jessica. 

She hesitated, overwhelmed by the small display, aching to think of how much energy such simple movements cost. She carefully took the booklet and watched as Dean crumpled across Cas’ chest again, his head ending up on his chest by Cas' shoulder as his arms fell around his middle limply. His eyes were closed again before she opened the page, breathing heavily against Cas’ collarbone. 

She met eyes with Cas, seeing the startled expression in his own eyes before she turned to look at the page in front of her. It took her a second to find the light from the window and see the page, and a second to decipher the messy words before she could read the message. 

“Earlier srry 4 freak out. firesmokegoldhair. flashbck. not ur fault. lookd like mom. saw her burning agn. saw u burning 2 an couldn’t breath. ddnt wnt smmy 2 loose u. ur family. gnna be my sister 1day. nt ur fault. ur wndrfl. remind me of cas. ur my smmys angel, gotta keep u safe. gnna get strong again n keep u 2 safe. gnna take care of my family. Srry 4 scaring u.” 

Jessica sucked in a startled breath, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she read the words over again, tears pricking her eyes. She brought her knees up and buried her face in her hands as she curled over, trying to bite back the sobs the words induced. 

“Jess?” Cas queried softly, arms literally full of Dean as he gently stroked at his back and arms, nose pressed lightly into the top of his head, tickled by short strands. 

“S-sorry. I just...I wasn’t p-prepared for-” She thrust the booklet towards him as she tried to catch her breath, using her other hand to wipe at her cheeks. 

Castiel read over the words slowly, squinting against the dark lighting, his heart twisting with each word he deciphered amongst the messy scribbles and shorthand. He felt tears well up in his own eyes again, and smiled at the page. He pressed a kiss into the top of Dean’s hair, holding him a little closer. “You’re right, Jessica. We will be okay. All of us.” He promised, tugging her closer and pulling her into his side. Dean’s arm even moved to wrap around her waist as she was tugged into Cas’ side, and he didn’t flinch at the close proximity their faces ended up in. His eyes stayed closed as Jessica wrapped around Cas and Dean in return, burying her teary eyes into Cas' shoulder. 

They stayed liked that in silence for several long minutes before the door creaked open again and Sam’s head peeked around the door. He came up short at the scene, smiling as he fished out his phone. He snapped a picture of the three of them and then padded forward softly, sitting down besides Jessica and taking up rubbing her back as she sniffled the last of her tears away. Later, Sam would help them all off the porch and inside, starting with his exhausted girlfriend and ending with his arm pressed next to Cas’ as the two of them helped Dean inside and upstairs. 

\----

Several days later, Sam found himself sitting in the waiting room of Dean’s therapist’s office, leg shaking as he waited to be called in. He’d gotten a call the day before asking if he’d be willing to come sit in on part of a session with Dean. They were going to be working on something together that Reb had said Dean requested his presence for, that there was something he’d been wanting to get out but thought it best to have Sam present for. 

It was twenty minutes into the session before Reb came out and ushered him back. He was led along the hallways until they got to a big back office that looked like it had been set up specifically for today’s session. Dean was sitting in an armchair, staring at a small set up in front of him. There was a small desk off to one side that looked unused, and more for decoration than anything. Besides Dean was another arm chair, and Reb told him to sit down in it as she went to a small stool on the other side of the set up from them. Dean had a small tray table to his right, with a mini laptop on it that was set up to link to the tablet Reb had. It was how they did most of their sessions, since Dean was still not talking. Sam took his seat with a gentle pat to Dean’s shoulder as he passed. He eyed the table and things in front of them and quickly realized what was going on. He sucked in a startled breath, glancing to Dean and seeing the stony expression on his face as he just stared at the items in front of him. He looked like he was in trance, eyes lidded, lips parted slightly, and hands palm up on his thighs. 

“I’m sure you’re curious as to what's going on today. After what happened on the 4th, Dean and I came to the conclusion that there was some...how to say, long term trauma that we wanted to try to address. Now, these sessions are confidential, as you know, and I will let you know Dean has already approved my explaining a little bit of what we’ve been working on. The details are his to expand on later, if he is willing.”

“I understand.” He said with a nod, licking suddenly dry lips as he glanced from Dean to the table and back to Reb. 

“It took a while, but Dean revealed a long seated…” She paused, thinking on her words before continuing slower. “Dean and I have been working on a bit of exposure therapy together, addressing a trigger of his. Smoke and fire.” She explained with a clearing of her throat. “We’ve been working our way slowly through some smaller scale exposure, such as matches and cigarettes, etc.” She linked her fingers in her lap as she stared at Sam purposefully. “Right now, I have him in a sort of trance, on his request. Just a middle form of hypnosis that helps him relax. We’ve been practicing ways in which he can mentally prepare himself for bigger triggers he thinks he may face. He wanted you here today because he’s been...hinting at something he wants to say. What that is, I do not know. Your brother is very stubborn at times.” 

“Always has been.” Sam chuckled, though he found nothing amusing. He was tense as a board, on edge about the whole situation. He and Castiel had speculated on the whole fear of fire and smoke thing a few times. He’d personally not seen the note Dean had written to Jessica, and she’d not told him about it, so sitting there he had no idea what might be buried deep in his brothers head right now, and what he could ever possibly want him there for. Dean’d been refusing to mention pretty much anything about his therapy unless it was a specific exercise he was supposed to work on with one or all of them at home.

“I could tell.” Reb offered a tight smile in return. “Now, then. Before we get started I want to walk you through a little bit of what I’ve had Dean doing to calm down. I’m going to have you do a few breathing exercises with me just in case, and then we get started.” 

She walked him through a few of the breathing exercises before explaining how she would start the session. She asked that he not speak, or interrupt unless Dean specifically reacted in a way that showed it was directed towards Sam himself, in order not to break any of the progress they make.

She started by calling Dean name and catching his eye. His head lolled a little before he blinked up at her, eyes focusing a bit more. He nodded and licked dry lips, taking a deep calming breath. She started with a match, lighting it first on her side of the table and letting the fire and smoke permeate the air for a moment. Dean didn’t flinch, though his eyes tracked the flame with an intensity that made Sam worry just how deeply Dean’s trauma went.

She then instructed Dean to light on of the matches himself, and he did so with steady hands, holding the burning match fairly close to his face as he watched the little stick burn away. When it got close to his fingers, he dropped it into a small bucket of water that sat at the feet of the table. 

They worked their way forward until they got to something Reb explained they hadn’t tried yet, because Dean had insisted Sam be there. He saw the gold locks of hair and felt a sudden sickening understanding wash through him. Gold hair, just like their mom’s, just like Jessica’s. The smell of burning hair would be far worse than the more common smokey smells. 

He saw Dean tense up in the chair as the hair was spread out on the table in a wide metal bowl. Reb had a long reach lighter ready to go, waiting on Dean. As soon as she got a nod from Dean, she clicked the lighter on. “Remember Dean, this is just hair. Remember where and when you are. Now count down from three for me, slowly. Remember to breath between each number and press your finger to your thumb when you’re done. I will not start until you’re ready. Alright? Now take a deep breath in.” She glanced to Sam, meaning for him to do the exercise as well. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, before flickering them open as his mouth shaped the word three, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened them and said two, taking longer this time before he repeated the cycle and said one, a breath shuddering out of him before he mouthed zero, eyes closes, and pressed his index fingers to his thumbs where his palms still lay facing up. 

It took a moment for the smell to permeate the room. It was acrid and made Sam want to gag a little, keeping his eyes on Dean instead of on the bowl of golden hair. He could see the twitches of Dean’s eyes under his lids, and the tick of muscles in his face as he forced himself to breath the smell in. His hands hand curled into his thighs as he opened his eyes to slits, staring at the table. He audible swallowed down a bit of a gag, panting heavily against the awful smell. The smell was only part of the process, the flame itself and the contents perhaps the most important trigger of all. He shuddered and gagged a little again, a dry sounding noise that made his whole body jerk. fingers turning white where they gripped his thighs. Sam dared a look, seeing the golden hair nearly engulfed now, crackling with the heat. He felt dizzy, having to bring a hand up to shield his nose as he looked back towards Dean with a lump in his throat. This was awful, and painful to witness, and he already had tears in his eyes when he realized Dean had drawn his knees up to the edge of the chair, was tucking himself into a ball with his eyes peeking out over the tops of his knees. He was making himself smaller, rocking slightly. It took a moment for Sam to realize there were tears streaming down Dean’s cheeks, his hands tucked in close to his chest, sandwiched between his knees, grasping onto something tight. 

“Dean.” Reb called softly, voice soothingly applied to the situation as she came around the table. “If you want me to put it out, just nod once, okay?” 

He shook his head, eyes caught on to the flames that were still sizzling, eatting up the last of the hair. The room was silent besides the crackling noise from the fire, and Dean’s heavy breathing. None of them moved until the last of the flame burned out and left nothing but a pile of ash and stringy looking strands of blackened hair. 

Dean jerked out an arm once the last of it was out, tucking his head into his knees as he silently coped with the exposure he’d planned for himself. Reb hesitantly stepped forward, taking a tightly folded piece of paper from Dean’s trembling hand and unfolding it a little as he jerked his arm back in close to his body, covering his ears with his hands as Reb opened the piece of paper.

She frowned, looking to Sam as she stepped closer to him. On the back of the page were the words “Read this to Sammy”. She unfolded and flattened out the creases as she glanced from Dean to the paper to Sam. She cleared her throat and set to her task.

“Sammy,” She started, feeling the force of Sam’s eyes on her as she set to work reading the tightly written words. It was clear he’d been anxious when writing this, his words small, calculated, and tightly pressed into the paper. “I’m sorry. I lied to you.” Sam jumped at the words, mouth flapping open to stop the words, only to get a sharp glare from Reb that shut him up instantly. “You were so little when it happened that there's no way you could remember it. You were just a baby. I’m glad you don’t remember. That you never knew her. I don’t think you would ever forgive me if you had. I’ve always lied to you about that night, because I couldn’t face the guilt of the truth. It wasn’t dad’s fault. It was mine. The fire was my fault. I was the one that ruined the socket in your nursery. I had been jealous, because Dad was giving you so much attention. I tore the socket open when he wasn’t looking and messed up the wiring. It was my fault the fire started, it was my fault mom died. I killed our mother, and had the audacity to blame Dad, to get angry at him for not fixing it in time. I’m sorry I killed mom. I didn’t mean to, not like with Azazel. I just wanted Dad to pay attention to me again. He always loved you the best. I always wanted to be like Dad because I saw how much mom loved him. I knew there was good in him, but I made him a bad guy in your eyes. Dad never forgave me, I know he didn’t. I killed mom, and he was stuck with us, with me. He had to pretend to love a murderer. I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to lie. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sammy. I killed mommy. I’m sorry. I just wanted daddy to love me too.” 

The weight that settled on Sam as he heard the words was stifling.He was floored by the words, the childlikeness of the sentences as they got closer to the end of the letter. He felt like his heart had been torn out, ripped to shreds, and then sewn hastily back together and shoved into the gaping hole it’d left. He numbly stood up, brushing past Reb where she stood, and went to kneel in front of his older brother. He placed his hands on Dean’s ankles, pulling them gently down until his feet were on the floor again on either side of Sam’s knees. He then reached up, taking his brother’s trembling hands away from his face, and pulled Dean down into his lap, wrapping long arms around Dean’s smaller form.

He felt Dean’s trembling increase tenfold, as tears streamed into the fabric of his shirt were Dean pressed into his shoulder, refusing to let Sam see his face. His hands clutched as Sam’s shirt between their chests, vibrating with tension. 

“Dean.” He called, voice a hoarse croak as he tucked his head in close to the side of Dean’s. “It was not your fault. It was an accident, plain and simple. You were just a kid, Dean.” He swallowed hard, fighting the tears thickening his voice. “Fuck. Dean, you were only four. You didn’t know. You just wanted attention. It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s not. And I won’t say I forgive you because there is nothing to forgive.” He pet at his brother’s head, kissing the side of his temple and rocking them both gently. “You didn’t kill mom. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Dean shook his head, trying to deny his brother’s words, cursing his inability to speak with a sob that stuck in his throat. No, no, no. He killed their mother, Sam had to understand that. He had to see it, had to understand why Dad had a right to hate him, to hit him, to hurt him. He deserved it. He was a monster, and he killed an angel. He didn’t deserve these gentle words and this embrace. He’d ruined their lives, he’d killed mom and caused dad to go crazy with despair and hatred. It was all his fault.

“No, Dean. No. Stop it. I know you. You’re not a bad person, you’re kind and you’re loving, and you’re gentle. Your biggest fault is that you love too much, you sacrifice yourself all the damn time for people that don’t deserve it. Dad had no right taking it out on you. You were four years old, for Christs sake. Four. I can’t even remember being four. You were just a kid, Dean. It wasn’t your fault. It was bad luck, and bad maintenance.” He wanted to scream that the lie Dean believed he had told was the truth. John could have easily fixed the socket before it sparked, and should have. With a four year old running around, he should have taken better care to make sure his kids were safe. “You lost mom, and you got put in a shitty situation with a man that didn’t understand grief, or how to raise two kids on his own. You were forced to grow up too fast, too soon, and you saved my life. God, Dean, you’re a hero. The biggest, bravest hero in the world, and you always will be to me. You’re incredible, and love too much, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So stop it. Stop it right now. It was not your fault. If you don’t believe it yourself, believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this. And I know you want me to be mad, to react like dad, and I’m not going to. He’s not here to hurt you any more, so please, please, Dean. Trust me.”


	34. Chapter 34

Dean stared at the stars in continued silence. It was a quarter past two and the night was silent besides the insects singing away. He was sitting on the hood of the impala, hands curled around an old photograph he had found earlier in the day. He remembered the day the picture had been taken, the way the sun had felt on his skin. It had been the first summer with Bobby after their time with the Lucifer Gang, and it that memory felt like freedom and peace. He’d been struggling the past few weeks, adjusting to the therapy, the life “after”, and now the anger that was trying to replace his long held guilt over his mother. He hated talking about it, thinking about it, wondering what could have and should have and would have been. Every time he looked past the pain of the memories he felt sorrow fill the cracks in his heart. His family was so tiny now.

Sure his extended family had grown in the past few years, but he still just ached sometimes. He missed is mother. He missed her soft smiles and goodnight lullaby’s. He missed the time when he’d not known heart break and fear and pain. He missed the times when he could still think of his father and see him as a hero. Now every time he thought of John his pulse would quicken, he’d start to sweat, and he’d get so incredibly angry at the world that he didn’t know how to even be around himself. There was no escape, now reprieve from the memories, the echoes of abuses long ago and more recent.

Just the day before he’d excused himself from his rag tag family and walked deep into the near-by woods by Bobby’s house with an axe and slaughtered a few of the trees in the heart where he hoped no one would ever go. His anger had been so intense, his frustration so extreme that at dinner he’d not even been able to stand the sight of food, or silverware, or his beloved family’s faces. He’d needed out, needed something to take it all out on. He’d been so angry, so mad, so scared of himself. He’d barely resisted the urge to take the axe to his own beloved impala on his way out of the salvage yard.

Now, sitting on the chilled metal surface he was grateful for his restraint. He’d rebuilt this car a few times already, but the fault had never been his own hand; damage never done on purpose. He sat there now, exhausted, drained, and achingly sad. He wanted to be fixed; to be normal.

Loneliness washed through him suddenly, tightening his throat and making him bite back a small sob that brought a sudden sting to his eyes. He missed normal. He missed easy. Looking around the dark driveway, he let out a tired sigh, wiping at his eyes and pushing himself off the edge of the hood and onto the gravel ground. He missed the time before, the time when he’d been the happiest he could remember. He missed Cas.

Hesitantly determined, he head back inside, staying as quiet as he could so as not to wake the sleeping household and made his way up to the second floor. Coming to the door he wanted, he stopped and stared at the weathered wood. Wavering, he set his hand on the door and stared at it. Feeling weak kneed, he leaned forward, setting his head to the cool paint, closing his eyes as he leaned into the door, trying to get a grip of his roiling emotions. He was tired, so very tired, of constantly having to battle his mind and body. He wanted to be able to turn things on and off like he’d used to be able to, how he’d learned to do growing up the way he had. He’d been able to shove it all down, away, have it simmer and fester in vault that would only open when his limits were pushed. He realized now how unhealthy that method probably was; though he yearned for it now. What Alistair had done to me in that place this time…it’d been too much. Similar, perhaps, to things the man had started to do near the end of his first round; his buttons had been pushed, his sanity whittled at, his safety nets shredded, and his heart desecrated.

Choking on a sob, he slid his hand down the wood of the door, palm meeting chilled metal. His palm closed around the knob and started to twist, startling away when he felt the knob turning from the other side, the door creaking open from another force. He lifted his head and opened his eyes as the surface he’d been leaning on moved away from him. He raised his eyes to meet sleepy blue peering back at him in curiosity.

Castiel’s hair was a mess, disrupted from the small amount of sleep he’d already managed. He was squinting slightly in the darkness, adjusting to the light levels and fighting off the urge to crawl back in bed. His clothes were wrinkled, soft cotton grey sweat pants draping his legs, with one of Dean’s tee’s clinging to his chest. The sight of the familiar fabric, the classic-rock band decal, and the way a the bed sheets and pillows had left a little crinkle on his left cheek made a little smile curl Dean’s lips without his realized.

Without a word, he let his hand that had fallen away from the door knob lift, reach out, and thumbed at the little creased mark. He stared at the way his thumb brushed over the slightly stubbled cheek, tracking the sweep of the pad of his thumb as it moved against bristling hairs. He was enchanted by the way his palm curved gently around the edge of Cas’ jaw, and he barely realized he was moving closer until he felt the door and the door frame brush his shoulders as he stepped into Castiel’s space. His eyes followed his thumb as it dipped closer to Castiel’s lips, brushing over the dry looking, yet ever soft pale pink lips he’d come to love.

His eyes darted up and he met his boyfriend’s soft eyed gaze, could see the hope, the hesitance, the concern. He licked his lips unconsciously, biting at his bottom lip before leaning in slowly, pressing his lips lightly to Castiel’s with a slight tilt of his head, their noses brushing, his thumb brushing that little crease once more.

The kiss was brief, a barely their whisper of what their kisses once where. Dean pulled back to see Castiel reopening his eyes, his tongue now darting out to wet his lips as he met Dean’s gaze again.

Drawing in a deep, settling breath, Dean dropped his hand from Castiel’s cheek without preamble, seeing the flash of disappointment that lit Castiel’s eyes at the movement. He moved instead to take Castiel’s hand, lacing their fingers before taking a step back, and out of the door way. He tugged on Cas along with a gentle invitation, leading him down the hall to his own room. He led them inside and then to the bed, pushing Cas gently to the edge of the bed before backing away. He let go of Cas’ hand, dropped the picture that had still be in his other hand on the dresser. He let go of Castiel’s hand and dropped silently to his knees on the floor, staring up at Castiel. He honestly didn’t know what he was doing, but it felt easy, natural, comforting. He set his hands lightly on Cas’ knees and caressed the covered skin unconsciously with a sweep of his thumbs back and forth on the curve of the bone.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, squinting down at Dean, and biting at his bottom lip. The classic, familiar sight send a sweeping feeling of delight through Dean, and he surged up and forward suddenly, kissing Castiel full on the lips, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as his fingers curled into the meat of Cas’ thighs. He felt his heart rate pick up, his body flush, and his emotions finally settle.

He released one hand from Castiel’s knee and brought it up, lacing it through thick locks of hair that were getting longer than Dean’d ever seen them. Feeling brave, he let got with is other hand as well, wrapping it around Cas’ waist and bringing himself in closer between Cas’ knees as he pulled the younger male closer to the edge of the bed, their chests nearly touching as Cas’ hands gently settle on Dean’s arms, sliding up slowly to wrap around his shoulders and hold him close as they kissed, tongues gently learning to dance together again.

When they finally pulled apart, minutes later, they were panting softly together, electrified by the familiar, reawakened passion of a simple kiss.

Castiel’s lips curled up softly as he ran his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair, smile genuine and strong. His features had softened, his eyes cleared, and his posture loosened by the surprisingly easy exchange. They stayed that way in silence for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes in the darkened room around them.

At last, Cas’ lips moved, though in silence for a change, curving to create words that reformed some of those aching chasms in his heart. Tears sprung to Dean’s eyes as he watched those subtly kiss swollen lips move, and he drew himself in closer, burying his face in Cas’ chest as he wrapped both arms around his waist firmly, nodding slightly as if to say ‘me too’.

Not too long later Dean extracted himself, stood up and crawled onto the bed closer to the wall and tugged at the edge of his shirt on Cas to pull the other man down into his arms. He curled around Castiel with old ease and fell asleep within minutes. His dreams were vague and insubstantial that night, and for the first time in months he slept a full night without waking from nightmares or terrors.

Waking up in the morning, Dean barely noticed the weight of another body in the bed besides him, hardly cared that it wasn’t the normal routine anymore. He felt Cas’ breath against the tops of his head, the way the gentle breaths tickled his scalp. He opened his eyes slowly as he felt the sun hit his feet, the light slowly filling the room. Soon it would engulf the bed and blind the room with it’s warmth and light. Years ago he would have had the curtains drawn so he could sleep through the morning in peace without being prematurely woken. Now, though, he kept it open constantly, allowing the light to pour in without filter. He would often lay in bed and just let the sun soak into his bones. His skin had taken on a deep tan already, from his new habit. The color had helped him look healthy again, had helped hide some of the damage.

He squinted into the morning light, letting his eyes open slowly as consciousness crept through his veins. He remembered the night before, the simple way things had suddenly seemed to click back into place. At least temporarily. He knew it wasn’t something he could control all the time; not yet anyways. He’d just been isolating himself from touch and human contact for weeks now, barely even standing the light touch of fingers on his skin. He’d been so torn up after the Fourth of July, his nerves over sensitive, his mind too reactive. Now, he could feel a lull, a chance for comfort again. And damn did it feel good to wake up next to Cas again. How long had it been? He barely remembered that first time after, back in that motel room with everything so blindingly new, painful and raw.

Waking with a blissfully calm mind for once, Dean peeked up at Cas’ face above him, seeing the light catching on the tips of stubble and the lines of black lashes closed with sleep. He could read the ease on Castiel’s features, from sleep and perhaps from peace for once. Dean ached to know that while his past few months had been hell, Castiel’s had been rough as well. He ignored the natural thought to compare their pain, and settle himself into Cas’ shoes for a moment, letting the understanding wash over him. It’d been hell for Dean, but it was hard for Castiel too. He was watching his boyfriend fall apart, try to rebuild himself, and his new extended family cope with the aftermath of a torture that was yet to be concluded. Constant fear of where Alistair had gone, worry over Michael’s uncle’s own connection, chaos of his life being uprooted and scrambled as his own patience and emotions were thrown through the ringer. 

Would any other normal couple be able to handle this? Would Dean be as strong about it all if Cas was in his place? He’d been plagued by nightmare of Castiel and Sam amongst those bindings, of Alastair cutting into them, draining them dry. Even the echo of the thought of it was enough to set Dean over the edge sometimes. He’d get sick and weak feeling, his palms would sweat and he’d feel at once too cold and too hot. How often had Alistair used those images against him? Twisted into his mind until he nearly believed he could see them standing there in front of him, broken and bloody or holding the blades themselves.

Feeling that ache settle into his chest like a heavy weight, he wrapped himself tighter around Castiel unconsciously, tucking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent. Ozone and summer, a hint of something else too, something purely Cas. 

Cas’ arms tightened around his slightly, and a soft kiss was pressed to his hairline as Cas’ breathing shifted slightly. “Good morning, Dean.”

A smile curved Dean’s lips at the rough tone, the gravel sound that was Cas’ early morning norm. He hadn’t heard it in so long, it made him forget about the ache that had settled in moments before. He squeezed Cas’ once and pressed his lips into lover’s neck, mouthing back “morning” into his skin. 

Cas’ arms shifted, curling around his back as the other came up and settled into his hair, brushing through the buzzed locks soothingly. “You slept well.” He observed, rhythmically soothing his fingers along the back of Dean’s head, pausing once in a while to play with the nape of his neck slightly. “I’m glad.” 

Dean stay silent, taking in the calm, the quiet, the gentle touch. God had he missed this. He pushed himself up slightly, propping himself on his elbows so he could look down at Castiel. He marvelled at the light catching on blue diamond eyes, and highlight his facial features elegantly. He shifted so he had one arm free, reaching up and tracing his fingers from Castiel’s brow down to his chin. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he watched his fingers move. Feeling brave, he swept down and kissed Castiel good morning. He savored the surge of sensation, the brief flicker of uncertainty, of determination, of how right it felt to be able to kiss Castiel again without Alastair and his masked rapists being the images that surged to mind. Now the images that surged forward were sweeter, tender, lovely. Tears filled his eyes and he had to pull back to wipe them away, face flushing with embarrassment at his own reaction.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked with concern weighing on his voice. His hands hovered but didn’t touch as he waited on Dean’d permission to cross that boundary again. 

He nodded quickly, peering back at Cas with a watery smile. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, and ducked in quick to press a kiss to his lips once again to reassure him all was alright for now. 

Cas still frowned at him, drawing his lower lip across his teeth as he let his hands rest gently on Dean’s sides. “You’re sure? You’re crying.” 

Dean sniffled and wiped at his eyes again. He sat up, reached for the notebook on the other side of Cas and flipped it open to a page to write out a short message. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you.’ 

Cas let out a sigh, brushing a tear track from Dean’s cheek. “Why are you crying?” He asked softly, eyes softening as he looked at Dean’s colored cheeks. 

‘Pleasant memories.’ 

Cas raised a brow questioningly. “What were you thinking of?” 

‘You.’ 

A flare of color tinted Cas’ cheeks as he read Dean’s lips this time. 

‘Us.’ He wrote on the page, staring down at the black ink on the page. ‘New Years.’ 

“What about it?” He asked as he moved to sit up, leaning against the headboard and waiting on his answer as Dean adjusted closer to his side, pressing in close to his side. He settled the notebook across his right thigh, half of the page settled on Cas’ own left thigh. 

‘Waking up in your arms. Kissing you good night and good morning, being able to love you with ease.’ 

“Good memories, then.” Cas smiled gently, wrapping his arm firmly around Dean’s back and waist, enjoying the closeness after several weeks of barely a touch. 

Dean nodded, pressing a kiss to Cas’ shoulder lightly, remaining there for a few minutes before turning pen to paper again. ‘I miss it.’

“As do I.”

‘How can you stand it? Me being like this? Putting you through so much?’

“Dean.” Cas sighed heavily, brows wrinkling in exasperation. “I love you. I’m not going to abandon you just because things get difficult. It may not have been years, but I’m committed to you fully. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, even now. I don’t care if it’s easy or not. I’m here for you, thick and thin. For as long as you want me.” 

Dean was silent, staring at the paper in his hands, thumb brushing the corner edge of the sheet. It was a moment before pen touched paper, his hand hesitantly hovering before he pressed into the paper. ‘Always.’ 

“Then you will have me.” 

Dean nodded to himself, eyes shifting to the rising sunlight filling the room more fully now. ‘School starts in a month.’ 

“It does. Yes.”

‘One more year.’ 

“Doesn’t feel like it it’s been three years already.” 

‘Sometimes time flies.’ 

“Sometimes, yes.” Cas said with a sigh, tilting his head a little to catch Dean’s eye. “Sometimes it feels like ages when it’s just been hours. Sometimes it feels like years when it’s been days.” He said, reaching up and cupping Dean’s cheek; turning him to meet his gaze more directly. “Sometimes you wonder how you lived your life the way it was before, or how you’ll make it through the hour. But suddenly, times gone and you have to keep going, keeping living and learning and loving.” He offered Dean a tiny smile as he watched the emotions waver in his gaze. “Sometimes time can stretch on endlessly, and only when it’s gone do you realize where you’ve been all along.” He brushed his thumb under Dean’s eye lightly. “ ‘Time flies over us, but leaves it’s shadow behind’.”

Dean lowered his gaze, staring at Cas’ chest in silence. He slowly brought a hand up and settled it over Castiel’s heart, obscuring the band decal. His eyes fluttered up and to Cas’ gaze again with a frown curving his lips. His jaw twitched as if he was about to say something, causing his frown to deepen and his eyes and hand to lower back to the notebook.

‘I miss you.’

“I’m right here, Dean.” 

‘I know.’

“I’m sorry I can’t make it easier.” He whispered.

Dean closed his eyes, the lids fluttering as he battled the urge to cry, feeling choked up and unsteady. ‘I miss you.’ He wrote again.

“I miss you too, Dean.” 

‘I knew the minute I saw you that you’d be part of my life. I remember watching you leave, wanting to call you back inside so I could talk to you, learn about you. I never thought I’d fall in love. Was afraid of it. Love scares me.’ 

“Love isn’t an easy thing.” 

‘I almost wish it was.’

“Where would all the fun in that be?” Cas chuckled, bumping his knee to Dean’s lightly. 

‘You’re my best friend, Cas. Before anything else. Forget being in a relationship. I fell in love with you foremost as my friend, as a companion, as a confidant. I think I’d be dead right now if I didn’t have you.’ 

“Don’t say that.’ Dean could hear the broken plea in Cas’ words, the fear. 

‘It’s true.’ He wrote. ‘I’ve thought about it nearly every day since then...since before then. I love Sammy and Bobby, but I don’t think they would have been enough this time. I know they wouldn’t have been.’

“Dean.” Sorrow clogged Cas’ words, and Dean couldn’t look at him. He knew what he’d see already, and it made him ache deeper. He didn’t want to see the pain he caused Cas, the next layer of hardships he was putting on Cas’ mind. 

‘I don’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry. I need you to know. Truly know. I need someone to know. I’m trying harder. To stop thinking of myself as disposable. To stop thinking that I don’t matter. That it’s my fault. That I have to carry the weight of it all alone.’ 

“Oh god, Dean.” Cas’ voice wavered, and his hands trembled where they hoved between touching and pulling back, uncertain where to hold, what to do; not wanting to interrupt, but wanting to comfort and console. “I don’t-” 

‘You didn’t sign up for this. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. I get so lost in my own head, I forget sometimes that you guys hurt too. I don’t want you to hurt, Cas.’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to hurt.’ He glanced up at Cas at last, and reached out to brush a stream of tears from Cas’ cheek. ‘I don’t want us to fall apart because of me.’ 

“We won’t.” Cas choked out.

‘I know you won’t let us.’ Dean wrote with a small smile. ‘So i’m going to try harder. For both of us. For me. I don’t want to feel like a shadow of a person any more.’ 

“Dean, even your shadow is full of light.” 

‘You’re a sap.’

“So are you.” Cas countered with a smile.

Dean smiled back, leaning in and kissing Cas lightly on the cheek before pulling back and closing his eyes, breathing through the next moment in silence. It took a minute before he opened them again and turned back to the crowded sheet of paper filled with his words. 

‘I think we should go home. Back to the apartment.’

“Are you sure?” 

‘I’ve been talking to Reb about it a little. I think I’m ready. I want to go back before school starts for you and Sam. Get used to real life again. I’ll tell her today.” 

“When do you want to go?” 

‘End of the week. If we’re ready.’

“I’m more concerned about you being ready. It’s a long drive...and the apartment….” 

‘It might be a trigger.’ He scoffed slightly, huffing out a little breath through his nose. ‘Babe, silverware is still a trigger sometimes. I have to try.’

Dean could see the question floating in Cas’ eyes, the desire to understand what he meant about the silverware. Dean had yet to explain the ways in which Alastair had reinvented the household items. “Should I tell the others?” 

‘Not yet. If they ask, yes, but for now no. I want to talk to Reb about it first. I know there is a lot to be done.’ 

“We still have plenty of time. Don’t push yourself too much. I worry about you.” 

‘I know you do. But I miss our space. Our room. Our bed.’ He nudged Cas lightly with his shoulder. ‘I sleep better around you.’ 

“Okay.” Cas said hesitantly. “If you’re sure.”

‘I’m sure.’ Dean wrote, nodding to himself. His eyes darted to Cas’ and then back to the paper. ‘I think it’s the right step to take. Bobby’s is safe, comfortable even. But it’s doesn’t feel real sometimes. I need to go back eventually anyways. It’s real life, and memories, and home. I miss it. I miss Mike, the store, the town. I miss coffee dates with my brother and my lover. I miss home.’

“We’ll go then. And we’ll take it one day at a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for taking so long to post an update. I just graduated from college, gutted my apartment, and moved to a new state for an internship and started working. I've been exhausted and trying to get in the swing of things, and still have a few weeks of adjustment time as everyone else gets on staff and our schedules are figured out. Shout out to all those peeps in the Adirondacks if there are any! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Sorry for any and all mistakes (in all chapters. I'm only one person here). I'll try to start getting in the habit of atleast once weekly updates if I can. I've been motivated to take up writing a few older, dust covered stories I never finished (non-fanfiction), and have even been writing some poetry again. it's weird, and I'm still transitioning so bear with me for a few weeks!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my probably terrible representation of the group in the second chunk of this. I did take all of the 5 word quotes from real message boards, though, besides Dean's.

It took the space of two seconds for Dean to realize what a terrible mistake he had made. He’d wanted to push himself, act normal, not have the fear looming over him the whole night. Now he was regretting his recklessness. Cas had gone out to get the last bag from the car, leaving Dean alone in the bedroom. He’d been fine when they tested the actual bedroom moments ago. Dean’d not had an issue at all. No flashbacks, no memory of anything particularly awful happening in the space. Sure he remembered the logistics of what had happened the last time he was in here, his shoulder still ached with the damage it had taken in his attempt to get the gun or the knife from the bed. He’d looked at the bathroom door and felt numb to what had happened in there before, stepping towards it the moment Castiel left. 

He’d wandered closer unconsciously, opened the door and looked inside. The shower curtain was thrown back, the bath matt a little rumpled between the edge of the tub and the toilet seat. His vision was swimming in seconds, his breath catching in his throat. His neck tensed, his fingers curled, and he was on his knees in the doorway before he registered the loud thunk they made hitting the ground. He shut his eyes quick, fumbling with uncoordinated fingers for his pockets, his cell phone tumbling between his legs as he tried to open it blindly, shoving the speed dial as he started gasping, panic flaring in him as he prayed Castiel would hurry back to his call. 

He’d been blissfully panic attack free for about a week now, and none of the had been this bad. Usually the images would flash through his mind and make him flinch, maybe feel a little sick, maybe make him break out in a sweat that made his clothes cling uncomfortably to his scars. This was all consuming, intense, and he didn’t know if he was breathing any more. He felt so light headed, like he was falling even though he could feel the door frame against his side.

“Dean?” 

He swayed, fingers curling into the door frame and carpet as he struggled to answer the call. His eyes flickered open and he let out a ragged gasp as he saw the grey of the tiles directly in front of him. 

Cas.

“Shit!” Cas was by his side in seconds, filling the space of the bathroom floor and Dean’s line of vision. His hands hovered, uncertain, before lurching forward and grabbing Dean’s face and tilting his head up so their eyes were locked. “It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.” Dark eyes swam in Dean’s vision, jumping all over the room and spinning around the real ones in front of him. He brought one hand up, scratching at his neck, trying to get Cas to understand. He felt claustrophobic, like he was being drugged all over again. He could feel the needle pricking into his skin over and over and over again. He could remember the dizziness, the panic, the fear like it was minutes ago, not months. 

Please. 

“I don’t know what you need.” Cas said in a choked tone, moving a hand to the side of Dean’s neck and curling it around the back, moving the other down to take Dean’s hand to stop him from scratching at quickly reddening, irritated skin. “I don’t know how to help.” 

Feeling the hand on his, he dragged Cas’ hand down to his heart, pressing the palm flat to his chest, letting his eyes flutter closed again as he swayed forward, letting go of Cas’ palm to reach out and press his own palm to Cas’ chest over his heart. Not able to feel the steady beat he let out a snarl, twisting his fingers in tight and yanking Cas forward, pressing his face into his neck as he sank into the support Cas offered without complaint. He let go of the door frame at last, swaying wildly before he managed to grab at Cas’ neck and jab his fingers into the hollow where he could feel his pulse. Dean could feel the scared, racing pattern of Cas’ own heartbeat, and the way it was slowly settling down as he realized what Dean was trying to do. He moved in closer to Dean, slotting one leg in between Dean’s knees so he could get closer, holding Dean up as he forced a steady pattern of breathing for Dean to match. He could feel Cas’ pulse settling, his breath brushing against the side of his cheek and neck with purposeful rhythm. He could feel the gentle roll of fingers into the back of his neck and shoulders trying to ease the tension there as he pressed his cheek to Dean’s. 

They sat like that for nearly twenty minutes before Dean felt the tension snap and leave him all at once. He went limp and boneless in Cas’ arms, his hands losing their grip and his arms falling to their laps between them. He felt ragged and raw, worn thin and exhausted. 

Cas gently shifted his arms, wrapping them firmly around Dean’s back and then sliding back and away so he could loop his arm under Dean’s knees, hefting him up and carrying him to the bed in two quick strides. Dean didn’t have time to wonder if he was okay with it, if he liked the idea of being picked up or not, or even if he should complain in the aftermath of being set down. He was already fading out of awareness, blinking helplessly up at Cas as he pulled back. He let out a small whine, arm weakly flopping up to snag the edge of Cas’ shirt, barely holding on at all. He was so tired, muscles loose and not wanting to respond. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Dean. I’m right here. You’re okay. You’ll be okay. Just get some sleep.” He settled a hand on Dean’s cheek and brushed his thumb soothingly beneath his eyes, rubbing at the bags lining his features. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.” 

Dean whined, shaking his head and pressing Cas’ hand firmer to his cheek with his own hand. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to risk the nightmares. He didn’t want to fall under when he knew these kinds of sleeps left him feeling gutted and thin when he woke up.

“What do you need?” Cas asked uncertainly, settling on the bed edge, frown curving his features and deepening lines on his face Dean didn’t remember seeing there before. He hadn’t noticed until now just how much older Cas seemed, how aged he looked after two months of fear, after three of restless recovery. He had caused those lines, those wrinkles, those creases. 

He frowned deeper himself, reaching up a fumbling hand to touch the corners of Cas’ eyes, finger finding the bags under his eyes too as guilt settled into his consciousness. Cas hadn’t signed up for this, hadn’t deserved such a troubled partner. His eyes had always held aged wisdom in them, but now they held the after effects of horror. 

I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry.

“Shh, Dean. It’s okay. I’m right here for you.” Cas caught Dean’s shaking hand lightly in his free one, pressing a light kiss to his palm as he closed his eyes, holding Dean’s calloused fingers against his cheek. “You know, Sam let me in on a secret of yours...a few months ago. I didn’t think to try it until now because I really didn’t know the words all that well….but maybe you’ll like it even if I forget a few. I can make no guarantees it will sound good, though. So if you want me to stop, just say so.” He said with another kiss to Dean’s fingers. 

He ignored the confused expression that settled on Dean’s face and cleared his throat. He hummed a few notes before clearing his throat again and then launching into Hey Jude. Dean’s eyes lit up, his face flushed, and his body went slack as he stared up at Cas in disbelief. They both ignored the prick of tears in Dean’s eyes as he was soothed to sleep by Cas’ gravel rough voice doing it’s best to do the song justice. It seemed to work well enough, because soon Dean was drifting off, lids fluttering open and closed as he fought off the sleep as long as he could. By the last few notes of the song he was gone to the world, and Cas was left alone to the silence of the room. 

He gently set Dean’s hands down across his chest and moved to the end of the bed so as not to disturbed Dean. He leaned against the wall as he looked at his lover, wrapping his arms tight around himself as his internal dam broke. He shoved his knuckles into his mouth to fight off the sound of his sobs, curling into his knees to hide his tears as they crashed out of him. He hated seeing Dean so vulnerable, terrified. The way his eyes had looked when he’d first gotten to him, the fear and panic and desperation were overwhelming. He couldn’t get the way Dean looked out of his mind, seeing the way he clawed at his throat desperate for air, thinking he was suffocating, trying to make Cas understand without words. God, it was terrifying. His chest felt like a hollow space had been carved out, like his heart had taken a beating. He felt so helplessly alone, frightened of the future. Had they tried too soon? Had moving back here been a good idea? What if Dean had another panic attack when classes had started again, when Sam and Cas or Michael couldn’t be there for him. What if he found the gun or the knives hidden around the apartment and thought it was easier to use them than to deal with the flashbacks, the panic, the anxiety? What if he came home one day and found Dean sitting there with a gun in his mouth? 

Shivering, he wiped at his soaked face, sniffling as he rubbed his nose into the sleeve of his shirt. The rest of the luggage could wait in hall where he’d dropped it in his haste to get to Dean. He crawled up the bed and settled in besides Dean, lacing his fingers with the unconscious man’s hand and holding it firmly as he let his own weary exhaustion wash over him.

\-------

Dean stared at the door with trepidation, Meg at his side. He didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to go in that room and sit amongst those people and have them know. Walking into that room was like validating that he was a victim, that he was hurt, that he couldn’t just handle this on his own. Walking into that room meant worrying about trigger others, trigger himself, having too many eyes on him, hearing about things that were real and frightening and awful. He was scared, and he didn’t want to go in. 

Reb had been discussing their long distance options with him for a few days now, settled into a regular skype session time every evening now when their regular session had been. They would continue like this until Reb could find a therapist in the area to transfer him to and that would be willing to accommodate his speech issue. It was worrisome to all of them what a new therapist might do, whether it’d be worth it to switch over completely and start with their new method. As a compromise for the coming weeks Reb had made sure Meg got him to go to a local Rape Survivors meetings. She’d talked to the director of the program about Dean’s speech issue, and their worries about his being a male (and a physically very large one even thinned out as much as he was) around a group of almost all female members. They’d been reassured that he’d be welcomed, and that there was the occasional other male member that came once a month. 

It didn’t mean Dean liked it any more, or would willing walk through that door. He didn’t want to be there at all. But Cas and Sam were starting their first week of classes, and Michael was busy with the coffee shop. He had nothing else to do but sit around in the empty apartment in his own mind anyways. Meg had managed to find an apartment and moved down the week after they’d returned to town, settling in and doing a few interviews with the surrounding hospitals. Reb and the doctors that had seen to Dean after the rescue had written high recommendations for her, and she was already talking with two separate places about permanent positions that could possibly be hers. 

“It’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be.” Meg said with a roll of her eyes. “We’ve talked about this. They know not to push. They know how to handle things like this. They’re just normal people, too, Dean. You’ll be fine. Stop being a big baby.” 

Dean shot her a glare, let out a low growl before thrusting his hand forward and grabbing the door knob, twisting it as he pushed the door open. He stepped through the door before he looked up, feeling a little dizzy as he saw the group of people milling about. It was five minutes until the meeting officially started, and there were at least twenty women already there, ranging in ages. He was the only male, and he could see the looks of interest and uncertainty from some of the women. There were a few shooting him looks of downright disgust, as though angry that a male dare enter this space with them. Their eyes, too, seem to dart between him and Meg, as if suspecting her the victim. He swallowed hard and made his way to a chair, plopping down without looking at the others and curling his fingers tight into the notebook he carried in his hand. Meg followed with ease, taking up a space next to him and adjusting her chair a little closer, tapping the notebook as she crossed his legs at the knee and swept the room with her gaze.

He let out a small growl, resisting the urge to shove her hand away as he uncurled stiff fingers and opened to the first page. It was a brand new notebook that he’d be dedicating solely to his group meetings here. Meg was going to be his translator for the group and do introductions for him. The group director had been understanding and kind, smiling gently at him without babying him. Dean felt grateful for her natural ease, the obvious authority she held, and her confidence. She was familiar with all sorts of situations surrounding rape for both genders and she made him confident that she’d be able to handle him. That wasn’t what worried Dean though. It was everyone else. 

It was obvious, too, as they started to sit down that they were putting some space between themselves and Dean, leaving the space directly on his empty side open. Every other seat got filled, and when the director, Suzy, came out she took that seat without a thought, smile on her face. 

“Good morning, everyone.” She said glancing to everyone in the group. “I’m glad to see some returning faces. Good to know I haven’t scared anyone off just yet.” She said, causing a few of the girls to chuckle, though the energy was obvious low as their eyes flittered to Dean. “I few notes before we start with introductions. Due to the nature of this group, I am aware that some language way be particularly triggering. If you have any trouble please feel free to say something. As it stands I will be using the term ‘rape’ openly. I find it healthy to hear the term in order to facilitate healing.”

“Now, why don’t we start with introductions as usual, shall we? And for our new members, we do accept nicknames if you’re not comfortable sharing your real name.” She said glancing to Dean and Meg, as well as a few other girls who seemed just as uncertain about their environment. “I’ll start, and then we can go around to the left, as usual. My name is Suzy Lee. I am the director of the program here and have talked with each of you before. I studied to become a psychiatrist several years ago, and am a certified counselor. And like most of you here, I am a rape survivor.” 

Dean shivered and closed his eyes, surprised to hear such a strong figure say those words. It was disorienting to compare his preconceived image with what Suzy presented to the group. He listened as the group went around, each person stating their name and a small amount about themselves. Each one ended with the same or similar phrase. 

Before he knew it the circle had made its way to Meg. She lifted a hand in a casual wave and cleared her throat. “Hello. My name is Meg Masters. I am a private nurse who just moved to the area. I am here today on behalf of this man to my left.” Dean cringed as attention was brought to him, and he kept his eyes on his hands on his lap. “This is Dean. He is a selective mute. I am here to translate for the group. Dean is a rape survivor.” 

There was a general hush around the room, all eyes on Dean and Meg as they took in the information, exchanging glances with each other and darting hesitant eyes towards Suzy. One girl raised her hand hesitantly, face turned down in a frown. 

“A-ah. I’m sorry, but uhm.” She glanced to Suzy uncertainly before looking back to Meg. “What does ‘selective mutism’ entail?” 

Meg offered a patient, though tight smile. They’d known questions were a possibility and probability, and was one of the many reasons Meg was there with him. Dean had given her permission to discuss things openly with the group for him, and if need be he would write out his responses if he thought she wouldn’t be able to answer or contribute for him properly.

“It means that he is physically capable of speech, and until recently has been able to speak naturally. As a result of his recent-” She glanced to him quickly before sliding her gaze back to the curious girl. “trauma he has not spoken for going on-” She saw Dean scrawl a number on the page, dictating it to the crowd. “six months.” 

“Are you sure he should be here?” Another voice spoke up, a middle aged woman who had been giving them the stink eye all morning. “Isn’t it a bit inconsiderate of you to bring a man into a group of women who have been brutalized by men?” 

“My attack was by my ex girlfriend. Not a male. We’re a rape survivors support group. Not a hate on the male gender anger group. He has a right to be here just like any of us do.” A younger woman spoke up, her eyes hard and angry at the other woman.

“Thank you, Jenna.” Suzy input, trying to reign in the group before it got out of hand. “We do not discriminate in this group. Many and most of you were harmed by men, but not all of you. Rapists do not come in one size or gender or color. As with those who survive, we are not all the same. We all have our own histories and stories and ways to cope. I ask that we all do our best to support each other in our healing process.” She looked around the room with intent eyes, driving home the point. “Now, I would like to open the floor up to anyone who would like to speak. I especially encourage the newer members to try to speak up tonight, if you feel up to it. It’s not always easy to speak, and in some cases nearly impossible, about our attacks. I don’t require you to say anything during the meetings, but I have found that it helps get some of the burden off your shoulders, and makes it easier to handle in the world beyond our walls.” 

“I uhm-I would like to say something.” Jenna said with a small raise of her hand. “Again, I’m Jenna. I was assaulted a year ago by an ex-girlfriend. I w-would, uhm, would like share something I found online. It was a post asking what you would say to your assailant if you saw them again. The uh, prompt was to see if you could limit it to five words. I thought it might be worth it to share...I’ve already traded words with her, but if I ever saw her again...I think I would say “You’re forgiven. Let it go.”

“Those are hard words to say.” Suzy said softly. “I commend you for being able to share them. Forgiveness is not easy. Would anyone else like to try this exercise? You can say as much as you’d like, but perhaps we could go around the room and see what people would say.”

The room was quiet for a moment before the lady to Suzy’ left spoke up in a hesitant voice. “Why did you choose me?” 

The girl besides her, a bit younger, rung her hands together in her lap, staring at them as she whispered out her own words. “You said you loved me.” 

Dean wavered where he sat, skin prickling as he heard the words being spoken by the group. “You can’t hurt me any more.” “Burn in hell, you pig.” “You tore my world apart” “Are you happy now?” He felt like his blood was ice in his veins as the group dared to speak. Some people were noticably angry, some were tired, resigned. Some were forgiving and kind. Dean didn’t know what he could possibly say, but hearing all these other women speak up made him feel obligated. Each set of words was revealing and despairing. So many people had been hurt by these monsters in the world, monsters more normal than Dean’s own. When the circle finally got down to him he could only stare helplessly at the paper in his hands. Meg’s hand gently on his forearm told him he didn’t have to try if he wasn’t ready. He frowned deeply, glancing to Suzy at his side and seeing her soft, understanding gaze. He swallowed hard and moved the pen up to the empty line. 

What would he say to his rapists? Meg’s face went stiff as she saw the words, clearing her throat before glancing to the group. 

“The masks didn’t hide you.”


	36. Chapter 36

Castiel groaned as he woke up, blinking into the darkness around him to try and figure out what had woken him up. A soft buzzing under his hip and the lack of another person in the bed had him jolting upright in seconds. His heart thundered as he saw the empty space, fear the first thing to flood through him. The buzz of his phone became known to him seconds later, easing some of the terror as he saw the display with Dean’s name on it. Relief crashed through him and left him feeling helpless. Waking and not finding Dean had put him back eight months to coming home to an empty apartment all alone. 

He fumbled for his phone, wiping at his tired eyes as he brought the bright display to life under his fingers. It was 3am and a text message from Dean read ‘come to the studio’. He blinked down at the screen, rereading the message and trying to figure out how long ago the text had come in. Barely five minutes ago meant that Dean would still be waiting for him. He scrubbed at his eyes and opened a reply telling Dean he’d be right there. In the past few months since school started he’d come to realize Dean only asked things like this through the phone when it was really important. He might sometimes begrudge him the hours at which these moments occurred, but he would always go to Dean. 

Getting out of bed reluctantly he pulled on several layers of clothes, shivering in the cold of the night. It was late October, and the past few months had been particularly rough. Being back at the apartment had been a big adjustment after months at Bobby’s. Dean had a horrendous first few days back, unable to stand the sight of the bathroom unless Castiel was there by his side for the first few days. When Michael had offered to share his bathroom Dean had growled at them, stormed into the bedroom and locked himself in the bathroom for three hours. Cas had been honestly terrified, calling in to him when he heard the shower going, and nothing else. He’d tried the handle only to find it locked, finally give up and waiting on the edge of the bed biting his nails the whole time. When Dean came out finally he looked drained. His eyes were red and he had bags under his eyes. His hair was wet, and his clothes hung messily on his shoulders from where he’d pulled them back on after sitting the shower alone for who knew how long. Afterwards he’d been able to handle the flashbacks a bit easier, though he would try to make his visits in there as quick as possible. 

Shoving his feet in a pair of clunk shoes by the door he glanced out the window and frowned to see that the impala was still in the driveway. Dean hadn’t been driving since he’d gotten back, and it was another thing on the list of worries that had settled in Cas’ heart. He grabbed the keys and his wallet and padded out the car reluctantly, phone silent in his pocket. He drove towards campus and past it, towards a short street tucked away behind the administration buildings at the edge of the campus. Michael’s parents had gifted Dean a paid studio space after they’d found out he’d moved back to the apartment. They’d written him a heartfelt letter apologizing profusely for their family’s involvement and telling him to call if he ever needed anything. Dean had been reluctant to accept the gift at first, but he’d been disappearing to it during the day a few times a week when the others weren’t free. Cas had personally only been in the space once, the first time they visited. It had been stocked with paints and paper and all sorts of art supplies so that Dean wouldn’t have to worry about running out for years. Cas hadn’t seen Dean draw at all since the rescue, though he did stare at the stacks of journals with clouded eyes at times. Cas had assumed that Dean mainly used the space to get away from the apartment when the others weren’t around. 

Yawning and shivering in the chill of the October night, Cas parked the car and reluctantly got out of the warmth of the car. He padded up to the door, only to have his attention caught by a smell that had his nose wrinkling. Seeing a slight glow and the wisps of smoke from around the corner of the building he head there first, expecting to find some teenagers sitting there smoking. Instead he found Dean leaning against the wall, a joint between his lips and a lighter in his hands as he feed the flame to the thin paper. He was in a pair of ragged jeans and a black short sleeved tee-shirt, his arms streaked with paint. 

“Dean?” 

Green eyes closed as he dragged in a breath of the drug, fingers tucking the lighter into his front pocket before moving the joint from his lips as he let out a cloud of stank smelling smoke. He tilted his head towards Cas before opening his eyes, the whites of his eyes slightly red already. He quirked his lips up in a tiny smile. 

“Is that weed?” Cas asked, not sure if he should be angry or not. He was on edge, tired, and shivering. He didn’t know how Dean could stand being out in the crisp air without a jacket on. He started shrugging out of his jacket only to have Dean reached out and stop him, shaking his head. He slid his fingers down the thick fabric to the end of Cas’ arm, taking his chilled fingers in his as he took a deep drag on the joint, flicking the ashes away as he let out the smoke. He pushed off the wall, leading Cas with him towards the door at the back of the building, nudging it open with his shoulder as he took another drag. He stopped before Cas could enter the obvious warmth of the interior, turning to him and blocking his way into the room. He squinted down at Cas and let the joint hang at his side in his fingers. His gaze was intense as he peered at Cas, something shimmering in his gaze as he peered at Cas deeply. He lurched his hand out and dropped the still cherry joint into a tin on a bookcase by the door. He brought his hand up to Cas’ cheek and brushed his fingers along his jaw, tilting his chin up gently and leaning in to peck a kiss to his lips. When he pulled back he offered a tired, shy looking smile, letting go of Cas’ hand and stepping to the side, waving Cas ahead of him into the space.

Uncertain, Cas licked his lips, tasting the tang of smoke on his lower lip as he slid past Dean. He took a few strides into the space before he stopped dead in his tracks. The inner area was lit up bright, like Dean liked it, the room uncomfortably hot with all of his layers on. Cas hardly noticed either of those factors though, stunned by what his eyes took in on the wall opposite him. Stretching nearly the length and height of the room was a massive painting, still glistening with wet paint. 

Massive blue black wings speckled with red and gold stretched from a figure of Cas’ back where he was leaning over gripping the figure of Dean by the arm with a hand gently brushing his cheek. Swallowing Dean’s partial naked form were raging flames and black oily twisting tendrils with blisters and snares along the edges. Red demon eyes peeked out from the smoke of the background, sinister and watching as the light flooded Angel raised Dean from the obvious Hell. Offset in the background’s shadowy strokes were the words “Surely, you must know: I’ve lived in the muck; I am filthy, dirty, uncleaned. You look at me with certainty, ‘You are the purest I’ve ever seen.’” 

Castiel was floored, gaping open mouth at the painting and the words hidden in the shadows. The level of detail was stunning and unsettling. The love brushed into his features was startling, the attention to detail making Castiel’s chest swell. From the tenderness of the touch to the intensity of their gaze on each other, it made Castiel forget completely that he’d just found his boyfriend smoking outside.

“Azure.” 

Castiel jerked around, spinning to stare at the man by the door. 

“Rose.” 

Dean’s eyes were intense on Castiel’s face, his features soft though his voice was rough from disuse.

“Snow.” 

Castiel didn’t know what to do, floored by the words coming from his lover’s lips and the stunning painting behind him. Tears filled his eyes before he could help it, and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, fingers trembling were they pressed into skin, fighting the surge of emotions. His knees felt weak, ready to buckle under the weight of the revelations Dean just offered him. In three quick strides Dean was at his side, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist and pulling him in close as it all crashed through him, supporting him knowingly. 

Castiel hiccuped on a sob, pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder as he trembled, the tears quickly soaking Dean’s shirt. Castiel had been hoping and praying everyday that Dean would speak again. It had been nearly nine long months since he’d heard his boyfriend’s voice and he’d been completely unprepared for how monumental it would be when Dean did speak again. He hadn’t been prepared for how he would feel hearing that lovely sound again. 

Gentle lips pressed to the side of his temple, causing him to shiver as he was held so tenderly in arms that for so long had been clutching for their own support. He felt Dean’s nose brush the hairs by his ear, and his breath gently tickle the shell as he pressed his lips in close. “I’m sorry, Cas.” 

Castiel jerked back at that, shaking his head wildly even as the tears blurred his vision. Those were not the words he wanted to hear with his name again for the first time. He reached up desperately and pulled Dean down for a hot, messy kiss as he clutched at Dean’s face. When he pulled back he pressed his forehead against Dean’s and shook his head back and forth. “No.” He rasped, own voice choked and rough. “No. I don’t want you to apologize.” He opened his eyes to see Dean’s green ones already open and peering at him tenderly. “I already told you before, it wasn’t your fault. Nothing that happened needs apology.” 

Dean shook his head, features scrunching up as he pressed a palm flat between Cas’ shoulder blades and pulled him closer. “For the tears.” He managed in a weak croak, his voice not very strong still. He brought a hand up and wiped at Cas’ cheeks to illustrate his point, offering a tiny smile.

Castiel let out a broken laugh, leaning in and pressing his lips to Dean’s again. “Not even for those.” He panted against his lips. “You stupid loveable fool.” He wrapped his arms up and around Dean’s neck, clinging to him desperately as the shock of emotions still shuddered through him. Dean’s lips quirking up slightly in response made Cas’ want to never let go again. 

Dean pulled back slightly after a few minutes, brushing his fingers through Cas’ hair as their eyes met again. He smiled gently, pressing a kiss to Cas’ forehead before stepping back and lacing his fingers with Castiel’s, leading him over to an old, plush couch that was in one corner of the room. He sat down and dragged Castiel down between his legs, laying back against the armrest slightly with Cas’ back against his chest, arms wrapping around his middle as he nuzzled Cas’ cheek on his shoulder. 

Castiel let out a content sigh, turning his face in to Dean’s neck and feeling months worth of tension wash out of him. He settled in for a moment in silence before letting his eyes open again, gravitating to the wall sized painting. “I didn’t know you had started drawing again…” He sighed into Dean’s shoulder, darting eyes up to spy on Dean’s face. 

Dean’s eyes were lidded, barely open slits as he looked to his hands wrapped across Castiel’s middle, the younger male’s fingers laced between his own. He shook his head slightly, eyes moving to the painting on the wall. 

“Only this?” He asked, eased by the silent explanation even in the aftermath of the glorious sound of Dean speaking again. He would have been more surprised if he’d taken to speaking all of his answers again. This was okay, natural. It was good to know he wasn’t pushing himself to much.

Dean’s nod disrupted his hair, though neither cared as their eyes fell on the mural. Cas let out a soft breath, squeezing Dean’s fingers lightly. “It’s stunning.” The flush crossing Dean’s cheek was even more so. “I’m actually a little speechless.” He said, drawing one of Dean’s hands up to press a kiss into his knuckles. 

A tender smile curved Dean’s lips, and he turned his eyes back to Cas with a cautious expression. His lips curved down in a small pout, and he shifted slightly, moving so Cas was laying on his back on the couch cushions, and he was now on his side with his back to the couch back. He traced his fingers along Cas’ arms, tracking the movements as he turned his palm up and leaned down to kiss the center. Castiel felt butterflies dance in his stomach, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he watched Dean’s tender display. 

He startled when he felt Dean push his arms to his sides, hands lightly holding them down and out of the way as he swung a leg over Cas’ hips and straddled him. He darted hesitant eyes up towards Cas, lips a thin line of focus as he settled his hands on Cas’ chest and curved his fingers along the edges of his ribs through the layers of fabric. 

Frowning, he scooted back slightly, straddling along the tops of Cas’ thighs instead. He grabbed two handfuls of Cas’ clothes and tugged at him, encouraging him to sit up slightly. Hesitantly, Cas pushed himself up so he was sitting up beneath Dean, chest to chest, breath to breath. A line of tension eased from Dean’s face at the easy compliance. He soothed his hands up Cas’ chest to his shoulders, pushing at his jacket. Cas helped by shrugging off the peacoat and letting it drop to the floor besides him, eyes not leaving Dean’s as the green eyed male moved his hands next to the bottom hem of his shirts, hesitating before tugging them up and off, tossing them to the floor with Cas’ jacket. He let out a satisfied huff before he eased Castiel back down to the cushions below, eyes taking in the now exposed skin of Castiel’s chest. He set his palms back in place along the curve of his ribs, slotting in to the gentle groves of between each bone. He closed his eyes and let out a small hum, reaching for one of Cas’ hands and guiding it up beneath his own tee-shirt to rest in a mirror location. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked uncertainly, able to feel the ridges of scars between each bone, cuts that had dipped into each groove and left angry paths along his skin. 

“I want to try.” Dean said with a look of concentration on his face. “The scars don’t matter.” He murmured, not looking at Cas’ eyes, but rather at his hand on Cas’ chest. He pressed Castiel’s fingers along the line of one scar as he traced the empty expanse of Castiel’s own ribs. His gaze flickered up to Cas’ as he moved their hands slowly up towards the center of their chests, over their hearts. “You promised.” He whispered, bringing his empty hand up to his lips, pressing three fingers to his lips.

Castiel felt his cheeks burn and tears sting his eyes as he remembered that day in the kitchen at Bobby’s. There had been so much between now and then, so many days of suffering and recovery. “I did.” He said, reaching up and looping his finger’s around Dean’s wrist, bringing his hand to his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the same three fingers Dean’d just used. He sat up again, wrapping one arm around Dean’s waist for support and stability as he leaned in close to Dean’s face. “I promise to kiss away the pain.” He whispered before leaning in and kissing him once gently on the lips, before pulling back, eyes dropping to where their other hands were settled beneath Dean’s tee-shirt. He used the arm around Dean’s back to dip him back slightly. He let go of Dean’s hand, using his own to slowly guide the black fabric up under Dean’s armpits, revealing his chest and belly. Leaning down slowly Castiel placed a kiss over the center of the scarred chest, against his heart. Feeling Dean’s shiver, he glanced up at him. Dean was biting his bottom lip hard, watching with a mix of uncertainty and pleasure. 

“You’re right, you know.” Castiel whispered, settling his hand back against Dean’s ribs and the scars on his body. “The scars don’t matter. I loved you with scars before, and I love you now with more scars.” He dipped down and pressed a kiss to Dean’s ribs, brushing his thumb against the still red lines. Most of his wounds had shed their scabs by now, though there were a handful of spots where there were red angry rings around the brown scab of deeper marks, mostly healed yet needing a week or two more still. Castiel hated know that even after eight months Dean probably hurt physically from his wounds. Daring to look he saw the lines of red and white scratched into his chest, an abstract pattern only Alastair could read. “I wish they weren’t here, that you weren’t hurt, but I will love you either way. You’re still beautiful to me.” 

The cool splash of liquid on his cheek drew his attention back to Dean’s face where the other male was staring down at him with a flood of moisture in his eyes, a single streak visible on his cheek. His lips trembled into a smile as he dipped down and pressed his lips to Castiel’s again, pushing him down onto the cushions as he cradled Castiel’s head in his restless fingers. He brushed his fingers through Cas’ hair over and over, seemingly unable to get enough of the feel of the thick strands. He teased his tongue along the curve of Cas’ lips, pushing in and meeting Cas’ own in an intoxicating dance. In moments the kiss had turned heated, wild, almost desperate, as Dean plundered Cas’ mouth. He let out soft little huffs of breath between kisses, but barely gave them a chance to breath between each kiss, pulling at Cas’ lips in that way that he loved so much. Castiel couldn’t help but feel his veins fill with fire, heat coursing low as Dean devoured him. They’d not gotten this far with their kisses yet, and it was hard not to react to the passion, the hunger, the need in those lips. 

Sooner than he wanted, though, he was pulling back, panting hard as he tried to clear his head. He was going to lose his head soon, if he wasn’t careful, and he didn’t want to scare Dean away because he couldn’t control his damn dick. 

“No.” Dean gasped out, panting hard, eyes on fire as his hands curled into Cas’ hair tight, tilting his head back for his teeth to find his jaw, nibbling down his neck with his tongue soothing the electric jolts.

“D-Dean. I don’t-” 

Dean pulled back suddenly, hands still in his hair but eyes suddenly serious. “I want.” He huffed, nibbling at his own bottom lip. “Please. I’ll stop…” His fingers loosened their grip as he offered the reprieve and safety, the loss of contact. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t take what wasn’t freely given. He knew better than that. 

“Jesus, Dean. That’s not…” Cas reached up and pulled Dean down for a tender, deep kiss, cradling his cheek before pulling back to let them breath again. “I don’t want to scare you off.” 

“My actions.” Dean huffed, a furrow creasing his brows.

“My boner.” Cas said with a straight face, raising a single elegant brow. 

Dean’s roll of the eyes was full of delight and amusement. “Both.” He said with a quirk of his lips at the corner, shifting forward and leaning down over Cas more fully, so his forearms were on the couch besides Cas’ head. He angled his hips down and pressed them in against Cas’, letting the slight bulge be known to the other man.

“J-Jesus-” Cas closed his eyes on a small mewl, fingers curling in and out with his strained resistance. “A-are you sure? Please, Dean.” He opened his eyes again and shuddered as he saw the ring of green thinned out with the arousal in his gaze. “Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to scare you…” 

Dean let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes. “Do you know what today is, Cas?” He asked, voice steadying out on the startlingly long stream of words. The longest he’d offered yet. 

Cas’ brows furrowed together and he tilted his head slightly, trying to clear the fog on his mind. It was past 3 in the morning, and thinking back on his rough awakening he couldn’t seem to remember what the day was actually supposed to be now. He squinted up at Dean uncertainly. 

Dean gave Cas a little smile, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He whispered, cupping Cas’ cheek. “I’m sure.” He pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips again and nibbled gently on his bottom lip before pulling back. “May I?” He asked softly, eyes gentle and sure and clear, though still a little red rimmed. 

“Of course, Dean…” Cas sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair gently, leaning up to initiate the kiss this time. Their lips met and savoured and took up a less rushed dance as Dean’s hands made their way slowly down Cas’ body, thumb brushing his nipple and cause a shaky sigh to escape into Dean’s mouth only to be devoured easily with a sweep of Dean’s tongue. He kept his own hands to Dean’s hair, not wanting to push and try touching when he wasn’t truly sure Dean was okay with it yet. He wanted Dean to set the pace, show he what was allowed thus far. The feel of fingers at the edge of his sweatpants sent a shiver of want through his body, goosebumps dusting his chest and arms at the feel of Dean purposefully, slowly, hooking his fingers into the elastic band of the sweats and the boxers below, working them over the stiffness of his length and down his thighs part way. When the touch disappeared for a bit longer than he expected, he dared to open his eyes and part the kiss to peeked down at what Dean was doing, arousal flooding him as he saw Dean working his own length free of his jeans and boxers. 

His eyes jumped up to Dean’s face, watching him with wonder and hope. This was huge, and he knew it, was surprised Dean was so calm about it all. Feeling Dean wrap his hand around them both, holding the heat of their lengths together sent a shudder through him as a breathy whine escaped. It had been difficult to even justify jacking off in the past few months, guilt making him soft before he could find relief, or dissatisfaction washing through him in the wake of his release. It had felt wrong trying to find pleasure when Dean was suffering through the aftermaths of not just a rape, but a drugged gang-rape at the hands of his torture and a dozen faceless men. 

Dean stilled for a moment, just holding them, as he leaned his forehead against Cas, panting softly, eyes closed. They both breathed through the sensations, breaths mingling as one. Dean disrupted the stillness with a sudden, startling, twist of his wrist and slide of his fingers up along their lengths, causing them to both shudder out moans of pleasure at the friction. Just like that Dean was leaning back in, pressing his lips to Cas’ and working his hand up and down their lengths with a steady pace, fingers remembering a familiar dance, familiar but somehow blindingly new. 

When their breaths got too heavy to continue constant kisses, Dean pulled back and tucked into Cas’ neck, panting heavily against his throat between little nips and kisses. “Haven’t in a while.” He gasped into Cas’ throat, breaking the silence. “T-tried though. August.” He let out a breathless laugh, twisting and squeezing at their heads, making them both shudder at the increasing risk of completion. “Shower. Imagined us.” His thighs shook around Cas’ hips, toes curling at the white flare of pleasure. “Erased the terror.” He pulled Cas’ head back by the hair again, gently, and slotted his lips in against his throat more fully, pressing wet lipped kisses against his adam’s apple. 

“Remember our last time?” He let out a shuddering laugh, knowing they were both close but not relenting in his motions. “March.” He whispered sadly, feeling Cas’ fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, and scalp, barely holding on as he was stimulated physically and verbally after so long, the sound of Dean’s voice it’s own spark in his system.

“I fingered myself that night.” He admitted with a little hitch to his breath, thinking back to the last time he’d truly enjoyed this act. “You were coming home.” He pressed his forehead into the sweaty expanse of his neck and felt his fingers fumbling, their precum slickening his movements. 

“Couldn’t wait.” He felt heat flood his face at his fumbling admittance. “Missed you.” 

“D-De!” Cas gasped, twisting his fingers in his hair and pulling him back, pressing their mouths back together as he risked reaching down between them with his other hand, slotting his fingers in besides Dean’s and squeezed lightly. “Love you.” He gasped, the words ripping the last of their resistance away, pleasure coursing out of them with their combined orgasms. Cas shivered as the wet heat hit his chest, pooling by his bellybutton and slicking their fingers together. 

Dean let out a breathless moan as the last of his release was stripped from him, and he collapsed down across their arms and chest, exhausted from everything that had been striped from him. 

Castiel let out a soft laugh, gently pulling Dean’s hand out from between them, letting them flop over the side of the couch edge as he wrapped his other arm around Dean’s shoulder lightly, brushing at his hair lightly. 

“You okay?” He asked in a tired tone a few minutes later, getting a barely there nod from Dean, who nuzzled into the side of his neck with a little huff of breath. “Do you want to stay here?” 

Dean let out a little noise of consideration before shaking his head and slowly pushing himself up so he was sitting up over Castiel once more, shirt now soiled, face flushed beautifully, and eyes drooping closed with each blink. In silence he mouthed the word ‘home’, gently squeezing Cas’ hand in his before letting go. He dipped down and pressed a searing to kiss to Cas’ lips before swinging his way up and off the couch, legs shaking a little with the movement. He caught himself though by setting his feet wider apart, taking a second to adjust himself back into his low slung pants before glancing down to Cas with an exhausted little smile. 

Home. 

It isn't until he wakes again in the morning does Castiel realize what the day is: the anniversary of his first escape from hell.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys all knew it had to happen sooner or later, so here you go.

Michael squinted at the building in front of him hesitantly, checking his phone for the address once more before sighing and getting out of his car. He spotted Dean’s car around the corner as he grabbed his camera from the back seat, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He made his way to the side door, as instructed, and unlatched and unlocked the bolt at the top of the door with the key Cas had given him. He pushed inside, calling out for Dean. 

Getting no response, he closed the door behind him and locked it, paranoid after all that had played out with his friends and extended family. He noticed a smokey smell to the air, frowning as he noticed a tin can by the shelf next to the door. Peeking over the top, he saw the butts of several joints stacked inside of it. He’d not known Dean smoked, but to each their own. He heard the faint sound of music further in the space, low and crackling, and noticeably a Dean favorite. He smiled, pleased by the familiarity of the music, even with the strange request he’d gotten from his roommate. It was mid-november, and yesterday night he’d gotten a text from his mute friend asking him to come to this space with his camera at this time today. Michael had gone without question, confused by the request. 

He set his bags by the door and tucked the key into his pocket, heading into the heart of the space he’d never seen before. It was warm, and bright, but as it opened into the main space he saw that Dean was laying on a couch, stretched out and asleep on the couch, his head tilted in towards the back of the couch, one leg kicked up on the cushions, the other hanging off the edge, one arm draped across his middle, the other dangling close to the edge with the end of a blunt in his fingers. His mouth was slack and his face was soft and peaceful looking. 

Seeing Dean like this felt like an invasion, but also a relief. Michael hadn’t seen Dean relaxed in so long, and it was weird being allowed in this space when he was defenseless. He hesitated before walking over to the edge of the couch, and calling Dean’s name again. He nudged his knee lightly, uncertain about even touching the other man. They’d never been touchy-feely before the attack, but Michael still felt like it wasn’t allowed for him to get too close, to initiate their previous interactions with ease. 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and a little breath escaped his lips, as he woke, green finding the chocolate brown of the couch first before he became aware of the touch to his knee. He tensed a little, before his eyes jumped to Michael, and he relaxed with a sigh of relief. He offered a small smile, and pushed himself up to an upright position, waving a hand at him in silent greeting.

“Hey.” Michael said, eyes darting over Dean to make sure he was okay with how he’d been awoken. “We had an appointment.” He said with hesitant smile. 

Dean nodded, rubbing at his eyes, bringing one hand halfway to his face before realizing the end of the joint still there. He glanced up at Michael and raised a brow, inviting him to share a new one should he like. 

Michael shook his head. “Been there, done that. I’m good. I had my fill back in highschool.” He watched as Dean leaned over the armrest and dropped the butt into a can there, before straightening back up and standing with a stretch. “When did you start smoking?” 

Dean shrugged, waving his palm back and forth. He mouthed the word ‘medical’ before nodding for Michael to follow him, leading him over to an area of the studio that was set up for a photo shoot, white curtains hanging elegantly in front of a canvas that Michael could see the tops of, filled with colors and what looked like the tips of wings. 

“What’s all this?” Michael asked, frowning at the obviousness of it, at the request falling into place. He’d have never expected Dean to willingly have his photo taken again, after so long, and what he’d gone through. “I didn’t…” He trailed off, watching as Dean just gave him an easy going smile, indicating for him to stay where he was as he went and retrieved the camera bag from by the door. He brought it back over and set it besides Michael before turning to his roommate and friend.

“Michael.” The dark haired man jerked, eyes instantly snapping up to Dean, jaw falling open as he heard Dean speak again for the first time since before. “This is important.” He stepped a little closer, green eyes intense and stormy. He set his hand on Michael’s chest over his heart and made sure Michael was paying complete attention. He quirked his lips up gently at the down right overwhelmed look in his friends eyes. “Need you to do something.” His voice was low, still gruff from lack of use. He’d only revealed his speech to three people. Cas, of course, being the first, and the other besides Michael being his therapist. He’d not spoken to her yet, though he had told her about his progress. 

Michael swallowed thickly, nodding. He didn’t care what it was, if he could help in any way to repay Dean for his family’s connection in his torture he would do it in a heart beat. He owed Dean so much; had since before Alastair and Zachariah. “Anything.” 

Dean smiled gently, bringing his other hand up to pat Michael’s cheek. “Photoshoot.”

Michael rolled his eyes slightly. “I figured.” 

“Naked.” 

Michael paled and then turned bright red. “O-oh.” He blinked at Dean, mind whirling through what this meant. “But that means…” He’d only seen shadows and tips of the markings on Dean’s body, and the request to document the scars and damage with his camera now was almost too much. “Are you...I mean….jesus, Dean…” He felt nervous, not sure he was ready for this kind of trust Dean was offering. “Really?” He asked in a tiny voice.

Dean nodded, eyes falling to the hand he held over Michael’s heart. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back up to Michael. “The anniversary.” He tapped his knuckles against Michael’s chest before dropping his hand to his side. 

“A-anniversary?” Michael stumbled, trying to figure out what he meant, frowning heavily.

“The contest.” 

Realization flooded Michael, and he paled again, eyes filling with sudden tears. “J-jesus, Dean...how can you...I mean-Fuck. That picture ruined your life.” He choked out. “I ruined your life.” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed to sharp slit, practically glaring at Michael as he grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him close. “ No.”

Michael tensed, startled by the near violence in the grip. “B-but I...I did. If it wasn’t for me…” 

“He would have come back anyways.” Dean growled. “He would have found me. Maybe today, maybe years from now.” His eyes softened, clouded with sadness. “I love that picture.” He whispered, loosening his grip on Michael’s shirt and smoothing it down. “Love Cas, love my family…” He tapped his finger against Michael’s chest again to indicate the inclusion he meant. “This is a good anniversary.”

Michael watched the colors of Dean’s eyes swirl and change, vibrant yet soft, warm and gentle and far away. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and nodding. “Okay.” Opening his eyes, he saw the small smile curl up Dean’s lips, and the silent thanks whispered back at him. 

He hesitated before moving towards his camera, getting it set up as Dean backed away, and moved to the edge of the photo area, stripping his clothes slowly as Michael set up. Without even looking at him, Michael knew this was a hugely difficult thing to offer. After being gang raped and torture, Dean didn’t just have physical scars, he had mental ones, and the fact that he was asking another man to document his nakedness willingly was astounding and terrifying. Michael didn’t feel worthy, didn’t think he deserved what Dean was offering him. Michael wondered if Cas had even see the other male naked since before. This wasn’t just any other offer, any other photoshoot. Dean’d never even allowed him to take a shirtless photo before, and now this was a full package. Michael would see and capture all the damage, would see it in detail and for an extended amount of time. 

He didn’t look up until he saw Dean moving towards the center of the white sheets. He stared instead at his camera in his hands, hesitant and scared. “Are you really sure?” He asked without looking, worried about the weight he was about to shoulder seeing the full extent of damage.

“Yes.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “You know, I’m still not over the fact that you’re talking again. H-how longs this been a thing?” 

“A month. Only Cas.” 

“Jesus.” Michael breathed, wanting to back away and run, scared of the truth standing in front of him. He didn’t care what Dean said, he was responsible in part for what he was about to see, and it scared him. He hated that he couldn’t take away the pain, the memories, the time he’d suffered through. “O-okay.” He hesitated a moment longer, before looking up. He felt a little sick the moment he registered all the marks, the scars. 

Dean’s eyes were intense, almost angry looking. After a minute, he let out a small growl. “The camera, Mikey.” 

Michael fumbled, nearly dropping the camera as he brought it up to his eye, hands shaking. Looking through the lense, he shivered as he focused on Dean’s face, the expression of defiance and determination. He clicked his first photo, letting out a shaky breath as he took a step back and took in more of Dean’s form. His arms were circled with patches of scars, his chest a maze of cuts and gashes and circular burns. On his hips there were patches that looked like the skin had been flayed away, or perhaps scraped raw. His left shoulder had three deep looking scars around the bones. There were lines running between his ribs, down the center of his chest and down as low as the base of his flaccid cock. There were thick lines of raised red welt like scars along his thighs, and draping over his shoulders. He documented each injury, and then the ones one Dean’s back, trying not to get nauseous at the sure proof of Dean’s torment and survival. His back from shoulders to knees was criss crossed with varying levels of scars from the many types of whips used against him. Michael remembered the rare times he’d seen peeks of Dean’s back before, and compared them to now. It was easy to decipher that whipping had probably been a regular occurrence for the other man. Dean was covered in layers of information that Michael couldn’t decipher, would probably never know the history of. Each scar told a story that Michael had only fantasies to inform him about. Two months of pain. Seven of healing. He watched as Dean’s body moved, how his arms shook slightly from being raised how his left was noticeably damaged compared to his right. He noticed the weakness in his right ankle, and the pain he got when he leaned too heavily to the left, his hips and knees brutalized as well. 

By the end of the session, Michael felt like sobbing.

Dean didn’t deserve these scars, this pain, the constant reminders he would care. The pictures filling his camera now were stoic, and intense, breath taking and chilling. They told a story with ease and without narration, and it made Michael’s chest ache with an unfillable chasm of sorrow. Once Dean had redressed, and the camera was put away, he sat down heavy on the couch and shared a joint with the other man, too overwhelmed to deny the offer.

Half way through the joint he heard a knock on the door, and watched as Dean got up and went to let the new comer in, returning with Castiel at his side, fingers laced together. They stayed and talked into the late hours of the morning, Dean reverting to writing out most of what he said as he tucked into Cas’ arms with an ease Michael hadn’t seen in their relationship in what felt like a lifetime. 

Dean approached him a week later, asking him for copies of the photos, his eyes far away seeming, lost in thought or perhaps memory. He watched the way he twisted the flash drive between his fingers, staring at nothing before he snapped out of his mind and offered a tired smile, and whisper of barely there words of thanks once again. 

\--------

Cas let out a tired sigh, fairly irritated that Michael had forgotten the list of supplies they’d been heading out to go buy. He felt his phone buzz insistently against his leg, and pulled it out of his pocket with a glare at the screen. Seeing Sam’s name he let out a sigh, trying to reign in his irritation after the long day of classes and horrible nights sleep he’d gotten when he’d had two tests that day and issues with his advisor about graduation requirements that he knew he had covered, but was getting bogged down about because of the issues at the end of the year before when he’d been exempted from exams. 

He brought the phone up to his ear as he pulled up to one of the second to last lights between himself and home. “Yes?”

“Where are you guys?” Sam sounded tense, off, and it set Cas’ already fraying nerves on high alert.

“Sagamore road. Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Meet me at Dean’s. Now.” The sound of the dialtone rankled Cas. He was worried, and frustrated that Sam didn’t bother to explain. If he wasn’t literally two minutes away he’d be downright angry.

“What’s up with him?” Michael asked from the passenger seat, smartly staying out of Cas’ hair as he drove. 

Cas shrugged and waved on hand through the air with a huff. “Who even knows.” He groused, pulling away from the light as it turned green. In minutes he was back at the apartment. Seeing a car in his normal spot sent his anxiety soaring as he saw Sam getting out of his own car, face pale. He jogged over towards Cas as he pulled into a spot on the side of the street across from their apartment, shutting off the car. 

Sam’s eyes were stormy and dark, fear and anger fighting for control. “He’s in there.” He hissed in a low voice as he shoved his phone towards Cas so he could see the text message from Dean. ‘al here hlp’.

Cas paled and swayed where he stood, clutching at the car for a moment before blinking rapidly at the screen. He let out a growl, storming across the street, going to the Impala and unlocking the passenger door, and the glove compartment. He didn’t bother responding to Michael’s worried whisper of concern as he came up beside him, swallowing hard as he saw the gleam of silver as Cas pulled a gun from under the papers and miscellaneous cassettes in the compartment. 

“Fuck.” He breathed, letting Cas and Sam go ahead of him towards the door which was cracked opened even though they’d locked it before leaving. 

Cas peeked in before pushing the door open slowly, thanking god that the hinges didn’t squeak. Not seeing anyone in the main area he hurried inside, indicating for them all to stay silent. He heard a crash from down the hall towards his and Dean’s bedroom. Red filled his vision as he he realized the bastard was trying to take Dean again. Nearly a year exactly since the last time, and he had the audacity to try again just when Dean was starting to actually heal. He’d been talking a little bit more and more, only ever really to the three men now witness to another attempt to harm him. 

He walked confidently towards the bedroom, gun ready in his hand as he pushed the door open with his hip. He caught sight of Alistair within seconds, and trained the gun on him even as the breath in his lungs shuddered out of him. Adrenaline and anger was fueling him, and he was pissed. He clicked the safety off and shot before Alistair could even turn to investigate the noise. blood splattered the carpet and wall where the bullet pierced his leg. It was only as Alistair crumpled and fell to the ground that Cas really took in what was happening. His eyes jumped to Dean, who was leaning now against the wall he’d been pinned against. He was gasping for air, and had an angry looking bruise forming on his temple. There were dark marks already forming around his neck where fingers had been. He stumbled on his own now, swaying as he started to fall. Cas blinked against the fog on his mind as Sam jumped out from behind him and caught Dean as he fell over. He wrapped his arms around his brother with ease and pulled him away from the man still living and breathing on the floor. 

Cas turned his eyes to Alastair, anger making him want to pull the trigger again. He snarled as he stepped closer to the man grasping at his leg in pain. “How on earth could you possibly think coming after him a second time would be a good idea?” He spit out at the grey eyed man now staring up at him. “Do you have any clue what we’re capable, what lengths we will go through to keep you from him? Do you have even an inkling of a clue of how precious he is?” He lashed out before he could stop himself and smashed his foot down hard on the hand covering the bullet hole. Alastair let out a cry of pain, precariously leaning against the corner of the nightstand. “How dare you!” He cocked the gun again, and aimed it for Alastair’s head. “HE IS NOT YOURS!” 

A broken laugh cracked from Alastair’s lips, as he stared up at Castiel. He twisted his lips up in a cruel smile. “He will always be mine. I marked him.” 

Cas let out a huff of a laugh. “Oh, yes. Yes, you did, didn’t you.” He twisted his hand down a few degrees and pulled the gun again, the bullet lodging into his shoulder this time. “Branding and scarring him does not make him yours, you twisted fuck.” He growled, blind and deaf to anything else in the room besides this monster. “Dean Winchester is not some animal to be branded. He is not an object to be owned!” 

Alastair let out a cackle, laughter sounding near hysterical before he leaned up towards Cas face, grabbing at his shirt to drag him down closer to his face. “Dean Winchester is worthless.” 

“Then why do you want him so badly?” Cas countered, not backing down or flinching from the grip. They both knew he had the upper hand, plus he had the gun trained now on the man’s chest, finger ready to pull the trigger. “See, you may have this nasty comments ready to fling at us, at him, words that will sting and cut deep, but they’re meaningless and inaccurate. You’re actions are you very proof of that. Dean is too good for you, full of too much worth that your greed and hubris makes you think you have a right to him. Well I’ve been meaning to have a few words with you about that.” He smiled darkly, eyes nearly black in color, his voice low and rumbling with his barely contained anger.. “He is worth galaxies over, he shines brighter than all the suns in the universe. He loves more intimately than your evil can taint. You raped and tortured him, and he is stronger than all the evil you put on him. He is stronger, better, worth more than you, and you will never, EVER own him. Do you understand me, you worthless piece of shit?” 

Alastair’s silence brought a pleased smirk to Cas’ lips, before it fell and he smacked the man’s hand away from his chest, taking a step back. “Michael, call the police if you haven’t already. I’m fairly certain they’ll want to talk to uninvited guest here.” 

Michael stumbled for his phone, stepping out into the hall to make the call, his voice panicked and breathless as he told them the address. Cas didn’t move his eyes from the gremlin on the ground. He was barely stopping himself from pulling the trigger a final time. He shoved his free hand into his pocket and pressed his speed dial for Gabriel, bringing it to his ear as he heard Sam whispering quiet reassurance to Dean. The sound of a barely contained gag made his body tense and he barely contained the twitch that wanted to squeeze on the metal under his touch. He listened as Sam helped Dean to the bathroom, and the sound of Dean vomiting as the phone clicked through to Gabriel.

“What’s up bro?” His honey voice asked through the speaker.

“Alastair came after Dean. We have him at the apartment. I may or may not have shot him twice in non-vital locations. Michael is calling the police. I need you to get here. Now.” 

There was silence for Gabriel let out a little breath. “Fuck. I’ll be there in five. Is Dean okay?” Cas heard shuffling as he got up and head to his car as he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Dean is vomiting. I’m about ready to pull the trigger again, so the sooner you get here the better. It’s been a long day. The bastard is lucky he’s still breathing.” He shot Alastair a glare where he was hunched on the floor, smartly staying still and trying to staunch his own blood flow, features going slowly paler as the stain of red on the floor grew slowly larger.

“Shit. Yeah, okay. I’m getting in the car now.” Castiel could hear the roar of the engine as it started up, and the sound of the car door closing. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement, but I need you not to be holding a gun right now. If you can, get Sam or Michael to take over watch duty. I want you checking on Dean. As much as I’m sure we all want that son of a bitch dead, I don’t need a dead body on any of your hands. Can you do that for me, bro?” 

Cas let out an irritated sigh, jaw ticking with frustration. “Yeah. I’m not sure Sam will have any less restraint. This is extremely therapeutic watching him bleed out right now.” He tilted his head slightly towards the bathroom. “Sam! We’re switching. Cops orders.” 

“Gabe does realize I might shoot him, too, right?” Sam asked as he popped out after a moment, taking the gun from Cas, sitting on the edge of the bed and aiming it at Alastair’s head. “I can take the phone, too.” 

“He realizes.” Cas said, handing the phone to Sam before turning away, giving Alastair a kick to the foot as he passed, pettily pleased he could make his life uncomfortable. He took a deep breath before hurrying to the bathroom, finding Dean crouched by the toilet, arms folded on the ceramic seat as he breathed heavily. 

“Hey, hey.” He said softly, sitting besides Dean and closing his mind off to the rage boiling under his skin. He set his hand gently on Dean’s back and soothed at his trembling shoulders. “You okay?” 

Dean nodded weakly once, leaning slightly closer towards Cas’s support, keeping his face hidden. He was silent for a few moments, seeming to try to catch his breath before his voice came out weak and ragged. “Gave me pills.” His fingers twitched slightly to indicate the toilet. 

Cas had to restrain himself from getting back up and going to beat the shit out of Alastair. “Is your head okay?” He asked, gently brushing his hair back to try to see the extent of the purpled mark on his temple. 

“No.” Weak and pained sounding, Castiel had to fight the sudden burst of helplessness that washed through him. He’d nearly lost Dean again. 

“It’s okay, Gabe’s on his way. He’s not going to get away with this. Not again. “ Castiel said, reaching for a washcloth and wetting it in the tub behind him, gently pressing the cool material to Dean’s forehead. 

Castiel could just barely see the quirk of Dean’s lips up against his arm. “You shot him.” He sounded pleased and amused.

“Twice.”

Dean huffed out a small sounded. “Better than he deserves. Didn’t kill him…”

Castiel let out a small sigh, pressing a kiss to Dean’s shoulder softly. “That’s our sacred space in there. Filled with our memories together. I didn’t want to taint it further.” 

“Thank you.” Dean whispered, turning his head slightly, and peeking open his eyes. He offer Cas a small smile, though his eyes were clouded with left over tears, lingering fear, and noticeable pain. “For what you said…” 

Cas frowned, gently cupping Dean’s cheek and tracing his weary features. “It was the truth. Even he knew it, too. Evil always wants to corrupt good, and your soul sings with it.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, before pulling back again. “I promised to protect you.” He whispered, leaning their heads together. “He hurt you again.” 

“You saved me again.” Dean amended. “Within minutes.” 

“Sam was the one-”

“No.” Dean sniped. “Well, yes, but no. You. Your memory, support, love. I knew you’d come. I knew.” He sighed, swaying a little, dropping an arm down from the bowl edge to grasp at Cas’ thigh lightly, curling his fingers into the fabric of his jeans. “Fought him off. Tried to.” He indicated the bruise forming on his head. “Nightstand corner.” He let out a weak huff. “Again.” 

“Jesus, Dean.” Cas let out a shaky breath, fighting back the tears. “I should have been here.” 

“Didn’t know.” 

“I should have.”

“Cas.” Dean’s voice sounded stern. “Don’t.” 

“Can’t help it.” He deflated, settling his hand over Dean’s gently, carressing his knuckles softly. “You’d do the same.” 

“I would.” He sighed, amused and tired. “Gonna be a long next few months.” 

“Huh?” Cas asked, confused by the sudden change of topic. 

“Alastair. Cops. The gang.” Dean let out a little growl. “Not gonna let him get away with it. The first time, with Sammy, there were others. Kids like us. Can’t let them keep hurting people.” 

Cas smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple again. “Like I said, bursting with goodness.”

“Shut up.” Dean huffed with a stain of pink darkening his pale features. 

“Never.” He chuckled, pressing another lingering kiss to Dean’s forehead, holding him close as they waited for the cops and Gabriel. It didn’t take long before the apartment was swimming with people, medics coming in to ship Alastair and Dean out, separately, as they tried to question the three saviors. Gabriel was able to field a lot of their questions, some of the cops having heard about the situation the year before and been on the search team for Dean. They let Cas go with Dean in the ambulance, telling them they’d have someone come take their statement after they’d gotten Dean checked out. They left Gabe and two other cops at the apartment to question Sam and Michael, and to get evidence from the room. Dean felt numbly detached from the whole situation as they made their way to the hospital, his hands linked with Castiel’s the whole time. He knew Alastair being caught was a good thing. He wanted him dead, but he also wanted his sins exposed, not just for what he’d done to Dean himself, but also to the other kids Dean still dreamed about from a decade ago. He wanted to take down the gang completely, shut it down and catch everyone responsible. He was terrified of what a trial would reveal about his own life, but he was tired of living in fear. He wanted it to end properly this time. He wanted it over so he could go back to making a life with Cas and his friends. He wanted to be able to live day to day knowing Alastair wasn’t hiding out in the shadows. He was so tired of it all, and knew he was about to be pulled every which way with legal issues. He wanted his family safe, too.


	38. Chapter 38

“C-Cas.” Dean panted heavily, legs shaking as he clutched at the younger man’s shirt desperately. Here he was again, pressed into the wall right where Alastair had been. The baseboard still held a few lingering stains of red in the creases. “C-casssssss…” He whined, fingers scrambling restlessly as the stimulation built and built inside of him.

“I’ve got you, Dean.” Cas’ voice rumbled into his ear, hot breath causing a shudder to ripple through Dean’s frame. “Love hearing you say my name.” He nibbled on Dean’s ear lobe gently, tugging it as his fingers twisted between them with an expert flair. 

Dean’s knees shook where they were trying to brace him upright, spread slightly for Castiel to press in between. Pinked flushed Dean’s cheeks at the words, and he let out a shaky moan, dragging one hand up to clutch at the base of Cas’ neck, fingers lacing into his hair. “Cas.” He sighed out softly, purposefully repeating the word with a shy look, peering up at him through his lashes. “Cas.” He smiled more fully this time, more sure of the word, even as Castiel twisted his wrist and thumbed at his cock head and ripped another moan from him. He pulled Cas’ head forward, slotting their lips together hungrily. He panted the word over and over again into his lovers mouth, orgasm building faster and faster with each utterance. Even hearing that name off his own lips was electric. Thinking, breathing, needing Cas was erotic and beautiful and God did he know how to twist an orgasm out of a man. He was strength and beauty and flare, composed as Dean was trembling into pieces. “C-Cas. C-cas...F-fuck.” He broke their kiss and grabbed at Castiel’s sides as he thrust his face into the crook of his neck, tension building to nearly unbearable levels.

“Dean. Beautiful Dean.” Castiel whispered the words softly into his boyfriend’s ear, holding him closer around the waist as his fingers glided over his weeping head. He’d discovered to his dismay that Dean despised every endearment relating to his looks, and Castiel had made it his mission the past few weeks to wipe away the memory of hateful words destroying his confidence. “My beautiful, wonderful Dean.” He pressed a kiss to his temple and pulled hard, feeling the whole body jerk it caused Dean as he barely withheld his orgasm, knees buckling a little as he struggled to stay upright, pressed between the wall and Cas’ chest. “Say the words and I’ll let you come.” He teased, circling the over sensitive crown and slowing his motions as he coaxed the deep seated evil out of Dean’s mind. 

Dean whimpered, pressing in closer to Cas, fingers scrambling and scratching until he still, desperate for release. “P-please...d-don’t-” Cas’ fingers stopping moving was painful and Dean nearly slid down the wall as the touch stopped. He nearly wailed, digging his fingers into Cas’ shoulder blades. “I-I’m-” He swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out. “I’m b-beautiful.” His face flushed a scarlet red as he pressed into Castiel’s shoulder more, embarrassed and shy and struggling to accept the words Castiel kept reassuring him weren’t wrong and evil and tainted. 

He could feel the smile curve up on Cas’ lips as he nuzzled the side of his face. “Yes. You are.” Castiel reached up and turned Dean’s face towards him, using his legs to bracket Dean upright. He stared intensely into Dean’s lust blown eyes, seeing that lingering worry, uncertainty, desperation. “Come for me.” He panted against Dean’s kiss swollen lips. “I want to watch you come.” He tightened his fingers once more and pulled, a gasp shuddering out of Dean’s mouth as he stared wide eyed up at Castiel’s face in return. It took two twists of his hand before it became too much, and Dean’s orgasm rippled through him. His lashes fluttered around his green and lust glazed black eyes as he tried to keep them open, tried to keep contact with Castiel azure gaze. 

Castiel grinned in pleasure at the expression washing over Dean’s features, the feel of wet warmth dripping from the cave of his fingers. He would never tire of watching Dean orgasm, especially not after so long being unable to safely touch him. Ever since that first night speaking again, they’d tried on a few occasion to initiate contact, but it was difficult. Cas tried not to push, waited for Dean to seek him out, for their world to be safe and calm and carefree. They’d tried this once before, just laying in bed together, and Dean’d freaked out on him, jumping out of bed and pressing himself into the corner with a shudder and horrible choked sob. Today was important thought, intense, almost necessary. 

“There you go.” Castiel whispered softly, petting at Dean’s sweat soaked locks. He pressed a kiss to his temple and then to his lips. “Stunning.”

Dean pouted at him, eyes clearing a little as he trembled through the last of the intense pleasure. “This is unfair.” He whispered, sounding almost angry, bringing a hand back up to grab at Castiel’s hair, pressing their lips together intensely, tongue working intensely to rile Castiel up. It didn’t take much, considering he was already rock hard from his pleasurable torment of his lover. 

He gasped, pulling back from the kiss, cupping Dean’s cheek gently to keep him at bay. “I really don’t have that much self control left right now.” He sighed against Dean’s lips, wanting nothing more than to give in.

“Good.” Dean growled, shoving at Castiel’s chest and backing him up until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he stumbled down so he was sitting there as Dean hovered over him. “I am not, and never will be, a one sided lover.” He growled, lacing his fingers back into Cas’ hair and leaning down to devour Castiel’s mouth, tongue fierce and knowing just how to move to draw little shudders from Cas as he tried to restrain himself. 

“D-Dean.” Cas panted as he pulled away, watching in disbelief as Dean dropped to his knees, pushing Cas’ legs apart. “A-are you-Oh my god!” He threw his clean hand up over his mouth, biting at his palm as he felt Dean’s tongue press hot to the bulge in his jeans. He was so hard, so turned on it was difficult to control himself, and he shivered as he felt the weight of Dean’s mouth press against him through the fabric.

“You do realize-” Dean started, bringing his hands up to undo the button of Cas’ jeans, and to slowly slide the zipper down. “The only way I’m going to get over him-” He grabbed at the fabric of his jeans and pulled the fabric down, stripping it off of him completely before he surfaced again to press his hands into Cas’ hips, now only covered by his boxers. “Is to try.” He rucked up Cas’ shirt, and pressed his lips to his belly, kissing the lean, toned muscles. 

“I-I...That’s what I was doing.” Cas sniped back, barely containing the little roll of his hips that begged for contact. This felt so good after so many failed attempts, so many night where they decided to just lay together face to face, doing nothing more than holding each other’s lengths, trying to reestablish trust reactions in Dean’s mind. Hell, they hadn’t even gotten to the level of seeing each other naked again. At least Cas hadn’t seen Dean, yet. Dean would randomly press him into the bed sometimes, ask him permission, and then strip him of his clothes, leaving him naked as he stared, green eyes intense as they took in the unmarked skin. Sometimes he would touch, hands coaxing down his arms and legs, soft and barely there. Other times he would curl up against his side and work through whatever his mind was doing to him. Others he would lay on his own back, and ask Castiel to lay on top of him, hold him down. There was one day a few weeks ago, right before Alastair came back, where Dean had come into the bathroom in his boxers and a tee-shirt and climbed into the shower behind Cas, wrapping his arms around the younger man and kissed at his shoulders, tracing his chest and hips lightly, warm tears dripping into his damp skin silently from the quiet male behind him. 

“Us. Heal us.” Dean sighed, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead into Cas’ chest lightly. “I miss us before. I miss craving you.” He trailed his hands down Cas’ thighs without looking. “Miss the weight of you, the taste, the smell, the thrill of making you feel good.” He slowly sank down Cas’ body, the tip of his nose tracing from his belly button down to his hips, and then into heat barely contained as he pressed panting lips to the side of fabric covered arousal. “He tried to use you against me, broke my mind with reminds of how much I loved doing these things for you…” He revealed in a shaky voice. “He made me do it. I’m sorry. I wanted to fight him but I was so tired of it all…I didn’t….” He breathed in a shaky breath, sighing it back out against Cas’ hidden length. “Didn’t want to be sent back to the dark...the cold.” He hooked his thumbs into Cas’ boxers and pulled them down, tucking the elastic under his balls and misting warm breath across the rigid flesh. “I want to remember you.” He whispered, eyes closed as he brought one hand up to wrap around the base. He smiled slightly at the familiar feel. “Want to see your face, remember your taste on my tongue today when the memories come back.” He pressed his tongue flat against the side of Cas’ length and slide from base to tip in one slow lick.

Cas let out a shuddering moan, system overloading already. Dean had just offered him so much information, reveal so much pain in so few words that his chest ached, heart hammering as he stared down at the top of his head. “D-Dean…” He didn’t know what to say, fingers hesitantly coming up to touch his cheek. 

Dean’s lips curved into a gentle smile, as he turned his gaze up towards Cas. His eyes twinkled softly as he leaned into the touch. “It’s already a good memory.” He whispered, seeing the worry, the concern, the desire in those magnetic eyes. Gentle and fierce. He pressed one hand into Cas’ thigh and pushed up on his knees slightly, surging up for a kiss to reassure Cas. He pulled back with a soft sigh. “I want you to remember this, right now, when we’re sitting in that room later today. I want you know-” He jerked his hand up once with a flare of his wrist as he panted his words into Cas’ mouth. “That this is my choice. I can’t promise I’ll be okay, watching it...I can’t…” He leaned his forehead against Cas’, shivering at the soft little moan he wrenched from Cas with another twist of his hand. “I don’t know where my mind will take me. So I want you to remember this.” He pressed another hot kiss to Cas’ lips. “I want you to remember how much I trust you…” He slid back and down Cas’ neck and down his chest, nipping at his hip before startling Cas by jumping straight to his cock, licking the beaded head. He swirled his pierced tongue around the crown a few times, and then down to where his hand held, before sliding back to the top. He pressed his lips to the little dip below the head and turned his eyes up towards Cas. “I love you.” He whispered, reaffirming words that hadn’t be said enough since the time before. “He can’t take that away from me.” He whispered, smiling with tears in the corners of his eyes. “He tried. He failed.” He lowered his gaze slightly before his lisp quirked up lopsidedly. “My Angel protected me.” He tapped his temple, still faintly yellowed from the nasty bruise he’d gotten from Alastair’s attack. “Your memory.” 

“D-Dean.” Cas’ breath shuddered out of him as tears dripped down his face. “I-I’ll remember.” He sniffled, brushing his thumb over the remainder of the bruise that still ached. “I promise.”

“Good.” Dean grinned before taking Cas into his mouth in one quick motion, swallowed him down to the base. A moan trembled out of Cas’ throat, and he curled his toes into the carpet as he resist the urge to thrust up and in and just take. He grounded himself with his fingers curled into the mattress edge, and his legs braced around Dean’s shoulders. Dean was still for a long moment, just breathing through his nose before pulling off and panting heavily against the now slick length. 

“You okay?” Cas asked in a shaky voice, trying not to get naturally irritated at the stimulation stopping. His body ached and yearned for more, and shit, if Dean couldn’t really do this than he need a moment in the shower for himself, because this was not a problem he could just will away anymore. 

Dean let out a huff of breath. “Yeah. Forgot you were bigger than him.” He laughed shakily, glancing up at Cas. “Just need a second-Sorry, I know you’re-” 

Cas shook his head, bringing a hand up to brush through Dean’s hair. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the wait.” He offered with a small roll of his eyes. “I’m fairly content just seeing you like this again. It’s a thrill.” He said softly, shy about his confession. 

Dean’s lips curled up softly and he darted up a look up through his lashes, examining Cas’ face in silence for a moment. “You remember our first time?” 

Cas’ cheeks flared hot red, remembering the downright pornographic moment. “Dean, I still wake up from wet dreams about that night sometimes.” He said in a smooth gravelly rumbled.

Dean let out a startled little laugh, green sparkling. He pressed his lips to Cas’ length again, smile still lingering. “Before Al got me...that night…I woke up from one...you weren’t going to be home for a few hours and I just...I ached for you. Jesus did I miss you. I mean, christ, I finger fucked myself.” He’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “Made a fucking mess.” 

The confession startled a laugh from Cas, and his couch twitched against Dean’s lips as a bead of precum dripped from his head. “F-fuck.” He laughed, having to reign in control for a moment. He didn’t get a chance though, because Dean took that moment to suck him back down, taking less this time, but making up for it with an explorative swirl of his tongue to clean off the leaking fluid. It send jolts racing through his body and he tensed where he sat, trying to fight off the sudden need to just fuck and cum right then and there. Dean’s tongue lapped smoothly along his veins and dips, around his head and into his slit slowly before he pulled his lips away with a small suckle, surging up without warning to press a hot, wet kiss to Cas’ slack mouth. 

“I-I want you to...to say my name...please.” Dean asked with a hesitant nibble at his bottom lip.

“Jes-fuck. Yes, okay. Yeah. Of course.” Cas nodded, smashing their lips together again in a hot kiss, reluctant to let Dean go again, but letting him slip back down to the task at hand. Cas started up a litany of Dean’s name as the other male worked, his touches and tasting growing more confident with each moan and gasp. It didn’t take long after that for Cas to come with a cry of Dean’s name, struggling to compose himself as he felt the warm liquid fill Dean’s mouth around his head. 

Dean pulled off slowly, a dazed kind of look in his eyes as he swallowed down Cas’ cum. A little furrow wrinkled his brow before he tilted his head and looked up towards Cas. His tongue darted out to roll along the edges of his lips. 

Cas sucked in a breath, biting his bottom lip as the aftershocks rolled through him. He prayed Dean was okay, that it hadn’t been too much. “Are you…” He started, only to fall silent as he watched Dean’s eyes narrow slightly. He pressed his hands back to Cas’ hips and leaned forward, licking the last traced from Cas’ sensitive head. He tilted his head back and met Cas’ gaze this time, he curled his fingers into the meat of Cas’ thighs, pushing himself up slowly and lean in close to his face. 

He licked his lips, eyes dropping to Cas’ lips before jumping back to his eyes. With a blank face he moved his hands to Cas’ neck, cupping around the back and lacing his fingers together in the tips of Cas’ hair. “Kiss me.” 

Cas let out a little whimper before nodding, leaning in and kissing him softly, wrapping himself close to Dean as they lazily kissed away the taste in Dean’s mouth, neither caring or commenting. They lay together for a little while, soaking in the relief of a successful attempt at normalcy. Cas’ mind was swimming with thoughts though, milling over the words Dean had said, worrying more and more. 

Sam had been working with Gabe and his professor Missouri, and he colleague and Dean’s official lawyer for the case, Gilda, on the case for the past two weeks. They had been in court once so far, and it was a preliminary start to the case that was going to stretch on for no doubt, months. They were brewing a case against Alistair, as well as against the gang in general, trying to shut down the whole operation just like Dean had asked. The other lawyer was trying to backlash against Dean and Cas though, because of the shots Cas had taken, and because of some of the more ambiguous and dubious-consent issues playing Dean’s affiliation with the gang before hand. They were lucky to have gotten access to all of Alastair’s files, though, and had had people in Gabe’s office looking through the information for the past year since to try to get more leads. It was being coming a big gossip case that Dean feared would get a headline one of these days. He hated thinking everyone who knew him in town would be able to read about it, see the skewed details. He hadn't even ventured to the coffee shop yet. He was scared of how it had changed, what his emotions would do seeing that space. He still felt fragile within his own mind, sometimes just so overwhelmed he couldn't help it. He knew today was going to be brutal, he knew exactly what was going to be revealed on those videos. Sam had come to the apartment last night, pale faced and haunted looking, warning him of the memories they would be trudging up and trying to blame him for. Dean had felt like his world was spinning around him at the fact that they were going to bring up the sexual assault first, and just ignore the fact that he’d been torture for weeks before. He’d struggled to keep himself composed, seeing the knowledge reflected in Sam’s eyes. He’d seen it, the video. Everything had been taped. How had he not thought about it until then? They’d known all along, seen the rape before Dean had even seen them. He’d felt sick to his stomach, struggling to hold himself together. Cas revealed the truth later, when Dean asked, confirming that he had seen the video of that night...that he’d found it...that he’d not let Sam hear the words….Dean had felt dizzy and unstable from it all. Cas knew, not just in theory, but in detail. He’d felt sick, his skin crawling in that way that made him wish he was back under Alastair’s blade so he could flay his skin away and make it stop. 

In two hours he would sit in that court room besides his family, friends, defenders, and the monster that had done this to him, and be forced to watch the videos of his first assaults. He would see himself kneeling on the carpet between legs too long, too thing. He would see himself forced to pleasure him, and he would have to choke down the pain and the sorrow and the despair so that he could fight the lawyers that were going to try to blame him for this. He remembered thinking back then that he would have to beg for forgiveness, that he’d had some sort of a choice. These men were going to try to make him take responsibility that now he knew he’d had no control over. He would have to sit there, talk to strangers when he had barely gotten used to talking to his own family. They wouldn't care or understand if he couldn't choke out the words, the sentences. They would demand more than just single words, short phrases. His only hope was that this memory, the feel, the taste, the memory of being with Castiel again could help block out his knee jerk reaction to panic, to snarl, to throw up at what he was going to see. What his family was going to see.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a mixed chapter. I hope you guys don't mind the 3 separate sections, but I felt it was the best way to proceed with the stage of the story. Not too many more chapters left, so prepare yourselves! 2 maybe 3 left, I'd say 4 max. It depends on how things flow as I write it out. 
> 
> WARNING: the first section may be triggering.   
> Section two may also be a bit, but not as detailed.  
> Section three is lovely and soft, and I apologize if anyone finds it unrealistic. But hey, artist liberties.

Dean was laying there, stretched out on the floor with his hands clasped together above his head, shackled to the floor. His eyes were closed, chest bare, in nothing but boxer shorts. The courtroom watched in silence and darkness as the video was played, They could barely make out Dean’s form until suddenly the lights were flashed on in the video, and he was illuminated in fluorescent color, highlighting the shocking array of bruises across his body. He was pale and had goosebumps along his arms, bright red stretching his lips.

From the edge of the screen came in Alastair, with what appeared to be a walking cane in his hand. He walked across the space to Dean with an eerie click click accompanying each step. He circled Dean’s unconscious form before crouching down and cupping his cheek, and running fingers through his hair. He let out a little hum, smiling to himself. “Wake up, Dean.” He called, turning Dean’s head towards him. Dean’s eyes fluttered slightly, struggling to open as his hair was pulled. He blinked weakly before green jolted open and he stared up at Alastair with fear in his eyes. He jerked away slightly in reflex, unable to really move at all. 

“There you are.” Alastair laughed, gripping Dean’s chin. “How are you feeling?” Dean’s glare just made him laugh harder. “Ah, that’s what I thought. I’m glad you’re awake. I was just thinking what a shame it would be to start today’s session without your full consciousness.” He stared down at Dean’s face hungrily, licking his own lips. “Couldn’t have that, now, could I? I like watching you struggle too much.” He smirked as he thumbed his finger over Dean’s lips.

The room watched as Alastair stood up, demanding Dean roll over. When he stayed still, eyes defiant Alastair kicked him hard in the side, demanding it again levelly as the crowd of watchers sucked in startled breathes. “Don’t test my patience, Dean. Turn over or I’ll do it myself.” He jabbed the end of the cane into the bruise now forming from the kick to his ribs. 

Dean let out a low growl, refusing to cooperate, eyes defiant and angry. “Dean.” Alastair’s tone warning, but the green eyed male refused. Alastair let out another heavy sigh, walking around Dean once, before ending up on the opposite side than he had just been. He stared down at Dean, rubbing the cane tip against the edge of Dean’s ribs on this side of his body. In the back of the room, someone let out pathetic sounding “Oh god, don-” right before bringing the cane down in a quick, heavy arch, smashing the head of the cane into Dean’s already bruised looking knee. 

A howl of agony was ripped from Dean as Alastair crouched down besides him, admiring the twitches shuddering through Dean as he reached forward to wipe at the snot and tears the attack brought. He ignore Dean’s twitching and writhing, smiling at him too gently. “You’re just making this harder on yourself.” 

Dean breathed heavily around the gag, eyes swimming to try and focus, tears dripping into his ears. His leg twitched, causing a whimper of pain to escape him, eyes closing as he tried to control his body’s movements to try to limit the pain. 

‘Turn over.” He instructed again, moving his hands away. Dean drew in a few deep, ragged breaths, twisting with a struggle, bound wrists and aching body making it a slow, awkward process. Dean watched himself from the courtroom, eyes clouded as he relived the agony of the memories. His fingers twitched to reach for Cas, but the younger male had been restricted from the front area, and was stuck a few feet behind Dean, forced to watch this with everyone else. Dean hated it, seeing it all over again. Hated knowing exactly what was about to happen. 

This had been early, one of the first days, and he cringed to see how damaged he had been. After so long there, he’d nearly forgotten about the first days of pain, when everything was still new. He watched himself twist over, struggling to balance himself as he moved his leg, and fought the agony in his left shoulder. He felt a little sick seeing the deep, nearly black purple of a bruise swallowing his left shoulder. He felt the residual ache now, though healed it was still tender on most days. Absently, he brought a hand up to rub at the ache as he watched Alastair trace his body with the cane. He watched the twitch of agony as pressure was put on his leg by the end of the cane for a moment before Alastair backed up.

“There’s something you need to remember. The sooner the better, really.” Alastair purred, tracing trembling flesh as he circled him slowly, drawing out the pain. “You belong to me. Always have, always will.” He brought the cane down in another arch, leaving a harsh red line across his shoulders. Over and over and over again, the tension in the court room was palpable, and Dean wasn’t the only one who felt sick to his stomach. From behind him he heard someone choke back a gag, rushing out of the room. His mind struggled not to go back to that place, not to flee like the random audience member. He stared blankly ahead, watching but not paying attention, seeing it all vividly in his own mind. It took all his remaining effort not to run, not to cower feeling those grey eyes on his profile from the other side of the room. He didn’t want to show Alastair how deeply he had scarred him.

\------

“Azazel had been in charge of recruiting kids, either kidnapping them or taking them off the streets. He’d get drug addicts, sometimes, if he was desperate, but mostly young kids. Dean was older than he wanted, but I was still in that window. Our dad had gotten into bad business with them, and he left us in their care not knowing what they’d do. Azazel tried to give me this drug called Demon’s Blood. I’d not heard of it at school, and didn’t like the sound of it. He promised it would make me smarter, stronger, powerful enough to take care of myself.” Sam was wringing his hands in his lap, staring at the ledge in front of him as he retold his story. His eyes jumped up to Dean at the table in the front, seeing the exhaustion and weariness in his eyes. They’d not talked about this in so long. They’d never explained this to anyone but Bobby. Now their whole family would know, Michael and Cas, and Jessica. Gabriel, too. 

“Dean told me not to take it, that I was smart enough, that I’d grow into being strong enough. Said I was just a kid still, drugs weren’t the answer. After about two months there, Azazel tried approaching us again, encouraging me to take the drug. Dean told him no. We didn’t find out for about two more days what the drug was capable of, that we’d made the right choice saying no. We’d been in a class with a few other kids, the others. Azazel gave them the drug. About half of them died within the first few hours, some lasted longer, a week for one of them before he went crazy and smashed his own head in against the floor.” Sam’s eyes took on a far away look before he snapped himself back to the present, grimacing at the vivid image that played across his minds eye. “A few had refused it, and were punished for it. Three of them took to it like it was candy, desperate for it. They were praised, taken to do advanced physical and mental training. They’d have us spar with them. At first Dean and I were the best there, because we’d grown up fighting to survive, but once they brought in those two boys they were wild, insanely overpowered, brutal. That night Dean went to Alastair, made a trade. Since he was too old anyways, Azazel didn’t want him, but Alastair...he..” Sam’s voice faded off. 

“Dean exchanged himself for me, made a bargain so they wouldn’t give me the drug, wouldn’t punish me for not taking it.” He choked out. “He would take my place in the rink whenever they spared, take the beatings for me. He was better matched for them since he was bigger, older, but he’d still come back every week covered in bruises. There was one day that they..t-they made him fight all three of them at once, in my place. H-he uh, he didn’t come back to the room that night. I had to sneak out...found him in the training room struggling to breath...” His eyes fogged over with tears and his lower lip visibly trembled as he retold the story. “There had been these metal shelves along the edge of the room. When I got there one of them looked like it had been dismantled, and p-part of it was jabbed into…” The audience sucked in a sharp breath, understanding washing over them even before they heard the words. “It was just s-sticking out of his chest, and there’d been so much blood...I…” He wiped tears from his face. “The next morning, I went to Azazel, told him to stop it, to stop hurting Dean. He refused, but Alastair came to me later that day, said he would spare Dean for two weeks…, that it would be okay.”

“I didn’t know until….until after we got out that Alastair had branded Dean, marked him as part of the gang.” He licked his dry lips and dared a glance at Dean, seeing his head tucked down, one hand clutching at his side as if the pain was fresh all over again. 

“T-then...after about a year, they sent the others away, somewhere else, and it was just me and Dean stuck there with the ones that didn’t take the drug. They didn’t last long. We didn’t see anyone else for a long time, but Azazel kept training me, teaching me. I didn’t realize how much I was being spared until I realized Alastair was training Dean, too. He took a sick satisfaction out of coming to find Dean in the middle of the day...H-he’d take him for an hour or two and when Dean came back he’d be pale, sweating, and wouldn’t let anyone touch him. I found out after we’d escaped that he was whipping Dean, sometimes...more.” Sam let out a ragged breath, swallowing down bile that wanted to choke its way out of him.

“The night we escaped…we uh...Azazel had tried to convince me to take the drug again, was convinced I would be a perfect match for it. When I refused he started hitting me, getting really angry. When Dean found out later that night, he’d told me to gather our things and wait by the door for him. He left the room for maybe ten minutes and when he came back his hands w-were, ah, they were covered in blood, and he told me it would all be okay now. That we were getting out.” 

The courtroom was silent, as Sam breathed through the memories. After a moment, he glanced up again and continued his story. “When we got out, we went to the train station. Dean called the police, and gave them an anonymous tip about the place, and then we fled. We moved around for a year, never stayed in one place too long. We were paranoid. We were scared. One day we realized no one had come for us, so we went to an old family friend, Robert Singer. Uncle Bobby. He took us in, helped make sure our scent was scattered elsewhere in the country just in case they were searching for us, and then he helped finish raising us. Helped me finish high school, helped Dean get a GED, helped us get through the aftermath of what we’d seen…” 

\-------

Dean stared at his hands in his lap, bags heavy under his eyes. He’d been unable to attend the support group for a long time, due to the ongoing trial. He sat now, for the first time, in the circle of women alone. He’d not asked Meg to come with him this time. Suzy had given him a worried look when he’d come in, asking if he was alright, if he wanted her to call Meg. He’d just given her a tired smile and shook his head, slipping past to take a seat among the others. 

She took a seat besides him on purpose, to his left. He knew it was intentional as she started up the meeting introductions, the circle moving to the left as they spoke their introductions. It took a moment for the circle to trail down to him, and he stayed silent as he looked at his fingers. 

He could sense Suzy’s worry, and before she could jump in and do the introduction for him, like he saw coming in the set of her lips and the nervous energy in her shoulders. He cleared his throat, and wiped his hands down his thighs. “Hello.” He nearly croaked out, shivering as he felt the eyes of all these women he’d come to know over the past few months stare at him in hopeful amazement. “My name is Dean. And I am a r-rape survivor.” He felt heat flare in his cheeks as he stumbled over the word, not looking up at the others as he got the words out. 

From across the circle one of the women let out a startled sounding “O-oh.” Her voice shook. “Y-you spoke.” She said in a quiet disbelief. “I was...I’ve been praying for months that you-” She stood up abruptly, and walked across the circle to Dean, crouching in front of him as she saw his discomfort with the sudden intense attention. “You’re okay.” She smiled brightly, tears in her eyes as she touched his shoulder. “I was so worried.” She engulfed him in a sudden hug, wrapping motherly arms around him. “I was scared that when you didn’t come back that you-” She bit off her words. 

She flushed as she pulled back, seeing the thankful but pinched expression on Dean’s face. “S-sorry. I got-” She turned and hurried back to her seat. “Sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Marcie, I think the feeling was shared.” Suzy said in a wavering tone, eyes wet at the edges too. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice, Dean.” She offered sincerely. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, offering a tight smile. 

“Dean-” One of the other ladies spoke up softly from near Marcia. “Thank you.”

Dean gave her a hesitant, confused looked. “For what?” He asked in a near whisper. It still felt weird, nearly impossible, to speak to anyone but his closest family. He’d been pushing himself a little more each day, working his confidence back up with each moment he overcame the difficulty of speaking like a normal adult. He’d been required to speak in the courtroom, even though it was hard for him. It was bad enough they put him on the spot about everything that happened, but then they probed and pushed, and ignore his PTSD like it meant nothing, even as Reb and Meg where there trying to call them out on their insensitivity. 

“For this gift.” Linda smiled gently across at him. “For giving us hope.” 

“W-what?” Dean floundered, taken off guard, uncertain what they meant, why everyone was looking at him with misty eyes. 

“For showing us that no matter how hard it seems at the start, we can heal. Thank you.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “For speaking again.” 

Dean’s face went scarlet and he tucked his head down again quickly, flustered. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond to all these women who had gone through their own horrors. They were looking to him like he was a hero, a mascot, some special example. It was them, though, who were worth the attention, who hadn’t deserved what they’d gone through, that gave him hope. He felt tears fill his eyes and he sniffled hard, wiping at his eyes. He was too emotionally raw for this, and hadn’t been expecting this kind of reaction from women who barely knew him. Women who had told their stories and never demanded his. 

“Y-You don’t even know my story...how can you-” 

“Honey, we don’t have to hear the words to know you’ve gone through something terrible.” An older woman named Pat offered with a little snort. “We’ve all experienced pain, brutality even, but you’ve endured hell. You survived. You came to us for support, and you inspired all of us. Even not knowing your story, you have touched us.” 

“B-But it’s not-” 

“Dean, you’re family, here.” Suzy offered with a gentle smile and hand on his knee. “We want what’s best for you. If you want to share your story, we will listen, but it is your choice to make. I have no doubt speaking is still difficult, so we won’t push you. Just know that we have all genuinely been worried about you for the past few weeks.”

Dean bit at his lower lip, nodding his head slowly. “I-I...I uhm…” His leg started bouncing with nervous energy. “I would like to try to share...if you’re willing to listen.” He whispered, tugging at the edges of his sleeves. 

“Of course, Dean.” Suzy offered, as the others echoed their willingness as well in a little chorus of pleases, and of course. 

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He’d just re-lived most of his sexual tortures with vivid videos, had seen his own torture repeated on screen for his family to watch, for strangers to digest and debate on. He opened his eyes slowly again, on a shaky breath, keeping his gaze to his hands. He didn’t think he could get the words out if he saw any of their faces. “A man from my past...came after me. He took me from my home and tortured me for two months.” He felt detached as he said the words. “He started with small things, but then...after he realized I was b-broken enough...he drugged me and he r-raped me.” He felt goosebumps raise all along his skin, and the color left his face. “When he was done with me...he strung me up for the others…” He clutched as his wrists, remembering the pain of his bindings, the stretch of his limbs as he was pulled and pushed and tugged every which way. “S-seven of them came in to the room...with just...just masks on….and he uh...he sat there watching...the w-whole time…” 

He was brought out of his mind by a gentle hand on his own, stilling it’s twisting, Suzy’s flooded eyes meeting his pained green gaze, and then the other girls, their arms wrapping around him in a hug. He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, had expected any of them to care, hadn’t wanted to cry. He let out a small choked sound, a sob escaping as he was embraced by women who shared these feelings of shame, disgust, self-worthlessness. They soothed at his back and offered him comforting words, easing his heavy heart with their gentleness and compassion, telling him it was okay to let it out, that it was okay fear intimacy again, easing his heart as he confessed his love to Castiel and how much he hated not being able to be there for him, hated feeling his touch and seeing their faces sometimes, when the angel had been nothing but gentle and safe. 

The group abandoned their chairs that day, settling around Dean and Suzy and easing the pain from Dean’s shoulders with soft words, offering their own anecdotes that made Dean ache to imagine these kind hearted women going through this sort of pain. Hated knowing that for some of them the pain had been from friends, family, or their own lovers. 

When Dean left the meeting hours later, he drove home in silence, chest contradicting itself with dual feelings of lightness and extreme heaviness. He felt like some of his pain had been lifted, but he felt now these other women’s pain as if it was his own, aching for their healing, their well beings. They had embraced him, cried for him, comforted him. 

He slipped into the apartment silently, greeted by the smell of dinner in the oven. He spotted Cas in the kitchen, leaning against the counter reading a book in silence as he waited on the chicken he’d put in to finish cooking. He was trying to expand his cooking skills bit by bit so they weren’t stuck with the same food whenever Dean didn’t feel up to cooking, or when he had a late night. Dean walked up to him in silence and gently took the book from his hands, setting it on the counter with a soft eyed look to his blue eyed lover. Castiel watched him in silence, gaze curious and questioning as Dean stepped into his space. 

With a tired smile, he reached for Cas’ hands, setting one of them on his hip and the other on his shoulder. He settled his own hands in a near mirror, one hand sliding around to hold Cas’ lower back, pulling him away from the counter and into his embrace, as he set the other on his shoulder. He leaned his forehead against Cas’ and let out a sigh, releasing the tension he still felt in his soul. 

“Dance with me?” 

Cas’ eyes sparkled with pleasure, a shy smile curving his lips. “Of course, Dean.” He whispered back, leaning in to press a light kiss to his lips before allowing Dean to slowly guide them around the kitchen space. He held Cas close as he hummed the soft notes of “Hey Jude” between them, eyes closed as he swayed them to his makeshift music. As he hummed out the last few notes, he pulled Cas in closer, wrapping his arms around his middle and leaning in to his shoulder, exhaustion hitting him hard. 

“I love you, Cas.” 

“As I do you, Dean.” Cas whispered back, wrapping his arms around Dean’s trembling back. “Now and forever.” 

Dean’s lips quirked up at he remembered the words said months ago. “Always.” He echoed back.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, what did I just write? *wipes tears from my eyes* you guys, I can't handle myself sometimes.

“Hello. Mr. Winchester.” A gruff voice started on the voicemail as Dean listened to the multitude of messages that had been flooding his phone for the past few weeks. “I apologize for adding to the no doubt endless amount of messages you’ve been receiving lately, however, I’m calling on a different matter than the case. I admit it was your story that made me find you, but it was what you yourself have posted that has drawn my attention. My name is Benny Lafitte, and I am a professional tattoo artist. I came across your work online and I was blown away. I live over in Cooperstown, and run a tattoo parlor there. I don’t know if the idea ever occurred to you or not, but you’re work is spectacular and people would pay good money for your designs.” 

Dean blinked down at this phone, numb disbelief making him struggle to comprehend what he was hearing. 

“I know you’re still busy with the last legs of the trial, and I wish you luck. If you ever decide you want to learn, I will teach you in a heart beat. You’re a one of a kind artist, and I would be honored to teach you and maybe one day have you tattoo me with your own work. Call me back or just stop in whenever-” 

Dean mindlessly wrote the number and address down, staring at it in silence as he listened through the multitude of other messages. He deleted some right away, ignoring the hateful words, the greedy assholes trying to exploit his case, the people he’d never met offering him words of sympathy, church groups trying to offer support he already found in the arms of an angel. 

The next morning, he left the apartment in silence, Castiel gone to class already as he prepared for his final few weeks of classes, graduation looming over their heads. There was so much going on, they were both constantly busy, dealing with reporters and the court case, and the meetings with lawyers, therapists, doctors, everything. Probing into his life, into Sam’s, into Cas’. It was exhausting, and Dean needed a day out of town. He settled into the Impala with a little sigh, caressing the warm leather of the steering wheel, admiring the heat his baby soaked up from the sun. It eased the aches in his bones as he felt it radiate out from the cushions behind him, soothing his exhausted mind. He glanced to the sketchbooks in the passenger seat and nodded to himself. It was time. 

\-------

“Cas.” Dean felt heat curl in his stomach, a flush rising to his cheeks. “You look incredible.” He smiled sheepishly. Today was a good day. The trial had ended yesterday, the verdict to be announced in a weeks time. They all knew, though, that they were going to win this. Not only did they have more than enough evidence against Alastair specifically, thanks to the gruesome videos, but they’d found more evidence after an anonymous tip was called in from Chicago, and a surprise witness visited to tell his side of the story. 

Adam had been one of the few kids that Sam and Dean had gotten to know, in that place, and when he’d been given the drug against his will they’d been terrified of what would happen to him. He’d been removed from the compound before the brothers ever found out, and had mourned his loss. They’d found out after his testament that he’d been lucky to survive the drug, but that it had nearly killed him, had left him fighting withdrawals and medical traumas since. When he’d seen Dean and Sam afterwards, in the after hours of the days hearing, he had thanked them for giving him hope, for being his inspiration even when he’d been alone in the world. Adam’s testament had revealed more name, more information, more detail of the drug trafficking and experimentation done on the missing children Dean and Sam had once known.

Now, Dean stood in front of his boyfriend, taking in the peace of the day, knowing for once this was a day just for them. Cas looked dashing in his dark pants, and his royal blue button down. The black silk tie sat neatly against his chest where Dean had tied it, and now, with the black robes hanging on his shoulders, with honor cords of gold hanging around his neck, he looked confident and ready to take on the world, pins from various achievements lining the collar to highlight what a wonder Castiel truly was, even facing the personal struggles he had for the past two years. 

“Come here.” Dean beckoned him closer, slotting his hands on Cas’ hips as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Cas lightly. “I like this look on you.” 

“I’m drowning in satin. How is this attractive?” Cas asked with a shy smile and roll of his eyes, kissing Dean back gently as he wrapped his arms around his neck. 

Dean let out a little chuckle. “I like the whole nerdy professor look.” He shrugged. “It looks good on you.” He kissed Cas again, savoring the ease he felt in his bones. It had been an exhausting emotional roller coaster for months now, but they had made it. Alastair and Zachariah, and even a few other men in the gang had been found, and would be going to jail. They even had a lead on the leader of the gang, Lucas, or Lucifer, and had found a few of the kids that had been trained with Sam. They were being given help to get over the drug still dictating their lives, and their families finally got some peace knowing the truth, knowing their was a chance to see their lost sons and daughters again. Closure.

“It looks good on you, too.” Castiel teased gently, nibbling Dean’s lower lip gently. “Well...everything looks good on you…” 

“Shut up.” Dean blushed, nuzzling Cas’ cheek lightly, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist. He smiled to himself, sliding his hands further back and lower, gripping his ass through the satin material, drawing Cas in closer to his body. “I have a surprise for you.” He whispered lowly into Cas’ ear. “For later.” 

Cas whined slightly, curling his fingers into Dean’s hair. “You’re becoming a tease, again.” He admonished softly, enjoying it. These past couple of days especially Dean had seemed more like himself form before, softer around the edges, more at ease. Castiel knew it was because the trial was ending. Knew that the thought of Alastair and the others being locked up and taken far away from him was a huge relief. He wouldn’t have to fear being attacked again, being taken and brutalized again. 

“You like it, so shush.” He murmured back, tilting his head in to catch Cas’ lips again in a lovely kiss. Castiel felt it in his toes, felt the curl of pleasure light up his system and leave his lips tingling as Dean pulled back. “You ready to go graduate, Mr. Badass English Major?” 

Cas let out a soft laugh, leaning in again for another soft kiss before pulling back. “Of course.” He chuckled. Dean beamed down at Cas, pride swelling in his chest. He’d never really thought graduation was such a big deal, but after everything they’d gone through, he couldn’t be more excited for Cas’ accomplishment. He felt a swell of pride in his chest that reminded him of Sam walking across a stage at his high school graduation. He remembered the big, delighted smile creasing his brother’s face as he wrapped his arms around Uncle Bobby and Dean, smile infectious. 

“You’ve done good, kid.” Dean teased softly, holding him close with a soft breath of contentment, ready for the night.

“Right back at yah, Dean.” Cas said with an affectionate roll of his eyes. They parted after a moment, grabbing their things and heading for the car to drop Cas off. 

Later that night, after the small celebration and family dinner, Dean took Cas aside with a soft smile, leading him back to their bedroom with a soft sparkle in his eyes. Castiel flushed as he saw the small groups of candles around the room, and a bouquet of roses on the night stand with a card leaning against the vase. 

He turned around to look at Dean and sucked in a startled gasp, tears filling his eyes as he saw the other male down on one knee. Dean’s cheeks were flushed and lips quirked up in a shy smile. “Hey.” 

“You can not just ‘hey’ me like this is nothing.” Cas growled down at Dean, wiping at his eyes. 

Dean let out a soft laugh, eyes a warm mossy green as they peered up at Cas. “My apologies.” He cleared his throat, licking his lips with a nervous flick of his tongue. “Castiel Novak.” He started again. “Will you marry me?” 

Castiel let out a trembling smile and laugh, nodding. When Dean made a move to reach for him though he shook his head and held up a finger. “Yes,” He whispered, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small box of his own, seeing the flush caress the tips of Dean’s ears as he realized what was going on. Castiel sank down to one knee in front of his partner, taking one of Dean’s hands and drawing it close to press a kiss to the knuckles. “But only if you promise to be with me-” 

He didn’t even have to say the words before Dean was whispering them out. “Now and forever, Cas.” 

Castiel slowly opened the box he had in his hands, pulling the simple band free from the velvet interior. “Always.” He grinned, taking Dean’s hand and sliding the ring into it’s place before allowing Dean to return the favor. He had to fight off the urge to jump Dean’s bones when he saw that it was Dean’s mother’s ring he was sliding on to his finger with such care. He glanced up and met Dean’s eyes, speechless as he took in the look of pure pleasure on his face. Soft, gentle, consuming. He hadn’t seen a more beautiful image in his life, and he felt overwhelmed to be allowed the honor of this moment with Dean. 

When Dean’s eyes turned up to meet his again, a smile broke across those beautiful lips, curving up his features as he brought his now ringed hand up to caress Cas’ cheek. “I have something else for you…” He offered, leaning in close to kiss Castiel passionately before helping them both up off the floor. He gave Castiel a soft, teasing kiss before pulling back, guiding Cas back towards the bed. He pushed Cas to the edge with a soft smile, kissing the smile from Cas’ face eagerly. 

He slid his hands down Cas’ arms, sinking to his knees again in front of the other male. “I’ve been keeping something from you.” He admitted with a shy little flush, letting his eyes settle on where his hands were gripping Cas. “Something I wanted to share with you tonight…” He licked his lips again and ducked his head embarrassment flushing his features as he pressed his face into Cas thigh for a moment, composing himself. “I know it’s been hard on you...on us, not…” He squeezed Cas’ hands tighter. “We’ve had to compromise on a lot...had to fight to get back to the us now.” He leaned back, letting out a huff of breath as he looked up at Cas, letting go of his hands. 

“I’m ready though.” He dropped his hands to the first button on his shirt, undoing it slowly as he maintained eye contact with Cas. “I want you, Cas.” He said, undoing another button. “I want all of you.” He smiled at the flush of arousal that he saw spark in those blue eyes. “And I want you to have all of me.” He go to the last button and pulled the tails of his shirt out of his pants, standing up to shrug out of the top layer with a small roll of his shoulders. He tossed the shirt to the floor and set his hands on the hem of his undershirt, peeling it up and off slowly. 

Cas bit at his bottom lip, maintaining eye contact with Dean the whole time, arousal flooding through him as he gave Dean this moment of revelation and intimacy. His hands fell back to his sides, and he stepped closer to Cas, holding out his palms up for Cas, taking his lovers hands when they were offered and led them to his belt buckle, offering a playful smile. 

Cas swallowed hard, eyes wavering before jumping down to where his hands rest. He bit at his lip as he carefully, slowly, undid the belt from its buckle, sliding the leather out of each loop and dropping it to the floor besides them as his eyes flickered back to Dean’s watching face. Seeing the hungry look in those eyes he turned back to his task with more confidence, undoing the button and slowly sliding the zipper down and open. Dean reached for his hands once more, tugging him up so they were standing pressed together in front of the bed. Dean’s hands settled on Cas’ shirt now, undoing each button with fire in his eyes making Cas’ pulse skyrocket. 

Dean leaned in and sparked the fire higher with a passionate kiss as he pulled Cas’ own top off, pulling the tee underneath of with a little growl and fierce lick of his lips as their kiss was broken. He undid Cas’ pants with nimble fingers and threw his belt to the group with a playful smile before unbuttoning his slacks with a flick of his fingers, and a torturous glide of fingers along the seam of the zipper as it was undone. Cas swallowed hard as he felt Dean’s fingers slide around the hem of his undone jeans, sliding into the back and gripping his ass with a playful squeeze, drawing Cas closer and panting his own pleasure across Cas’ lips as the younger male felt the full arousal pressed into his thigh. 

“I’ve wanted to marry you for a long time, Cas.” He whispered against his lips, drawing his hands back out and gripping the hem of his pants, pushing them down the toned runner’s legs, pulling Cas back in close once he was divested of his clothes. He pressed another hungry kiss to Cas’ mouth, feeling Cas’ fingers glide down his sides to return the favor, hesitating only a moment before pushing the fabric from Dean’s legs. 

He shivered at the feeling of being completely exposed, licking his lips nervously as he took a hold of Cas’ hips and gently pushed him back so he was sitting down again. Cas maintained eye contact, but Dean knew he was eager to look, to take in the sight he’d been denied for over a year. Dean smiled slightly, taking a step back and spreading his arms. He felt a nervous thrill fil him, making him smirk at the watching male, twitching a brow up in silent question.

Cas’ eyes slowly roamed over Dean’s exposed body, ignoring the ugliness of the scars and instead taking in the curves, the slowly forming new muscles, the heavy, red length resting between Dean’s thighs. He felt himself twitch at the hungry look in Cas’ eyes, shivering with anticipation as he felt and watched Cas bring his gaze back up to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Come here.” Cas held out his hand, beaconing Dean closer.

Dean shook his head, biting his lip. “There’s more…” He suddenly felt genuinely nervous, before taking another step back, slowly turning to show Castiel his back. He closed his eyes at the sharp inhale he heard from Cas, shivering as he felt the eyes tracing the plane of his back. He bit into his lip hard, waiting for Cas’ words. He jolted slightly when instead he felt a warm hand settle on his shoulder and glide down the ink now etched into him. 

“When did you…”

“Two weeks ago.” He blurted, interrupting Cas’ question, nervous energy radiating through him as he felt those gentle hands trace the lines covering his scars. 

“This is incredible, Dean.” Castiel assured, setting a hand on his hip and turning him around, peering up into his lovers hesitant green gaze. “And really, really fucking hot.” He growled softly, cupping Dean’s face before leaning in for a devouring kiss. Dean gave in with a sigh of relief, letting his tension melt away as he wrapped himself close to Cas, guiding them back to the bed. He pushed Cas onto his back and hesitated just a moment before leaning over him, straddling his lap. 

“I knew there was a reason I wanted to marry you.” He said with a little chuckle, flush lingering on his cheeks now that Cas knew about the tattoo. He set his hands on Cas’ chest, looking down at them with a thrill rushing through him. He let out a startled little laugh, feel color flood his cheeks more completely. “Shit, Cas.” He could hardly take his eyes off the ring on his finger. 

Cas tilted his head to the side slightly, smiling gently up at Dean as he slid his hands down Dean’s arms to the fingers spread over his chest. “I was going to ask you last year.” He whispered, reaching up his own ringed hand to hold Dean’s flushed cheek. “I’d been dreaming about it, for months...I’d wanted to ask you on our anniversary.” He flushed himself, carressing down Dean’s cheek tenderly. He was being constantly amazed by Dean, by the passion and love in those green eyes. “You were still so hurt back then...still so….” He choked back the tears. “I was going to wait until Friday...when we got the news about the trial…” 

Dean let out a little laugh, wiping at his eyes with a shaky smile. “You’re an angel, Cas.” He leaned down and kissed him passionately, taking his time licking into his mouth and caressing his face and sides shivering every time he felt the touch of their rings against skin. “My beautiful, wonderful angel.” He sighed into Cas’ mouth, need growing stronger. 

Cas groaned into the kiss, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair and caressing the edges of new ink with his fingertips on Dean’s back and sides. “My angel.” He panted back, sliding his hand down to Dean’s lower back, enjoying the little moan of pleasure he elicited as he caressed lower, gliding over his ass and down his thighs, fingers tucking into Dean’s knee, pulling him closer. “May I, Dean?” He asked softly, turning deep blue eyes to jewel green. 

Dean panted lightly against Cas’ lips, drawing in a deep breath before nodding slowly. “I uh…” He started softly, flushing as he felt Cas’ fingers glide slowly back up his thigh, squeezing his ass gently before daring to slide lower down into the seam between his cheeks. He went scarlet as he felt Cas’ finger brush his hole. Cas’ brows shot up his forehead as he felt the hard plastic there. “I-I’ve uh,” he flushed as he felt Cas tap the base once curiously. “To prepare myself...I was worried that…” He felt Cas circle the inner edge before pulling at it just slightly. “S-shit..” He trembled as Cas pushed it back down with a little more pressure, rocking it into Dean before startling him and pulling it free completely. 

“It’s okay.” Cas purred into his ear, nibbling at the lobe softly. “I understand.” He tossed the plug away with a ‘thump’ as it hit the floor. “I’m still going to finger you open, though.” He growled gently as he pressed one finger to Dean’s pre-lubed, pre-stretched hole. “Are you ready for me, Dean?” 

Dean nodded hastily, tucking his head into Cas’ neck and clutching at his shoulders as he felt that finger circle before pressing in and sliding in one smooth glide. He shuddered out a little gasp, blinking past the memories, startled by how different it really did feel. He let out a startled laugh as a moan was punched from him as the pad of two fingers pushed into and gazed that spot inside of him with expert precision. “Oh god.” His whole body shivered at the sensation, and he pressed himself in closer to Castiel’s chest, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked softly, brushing a kiss to his temple as he slowly slid the two finger in and out, stretching slightly before gliding back in fully and curling to tease that spot once agai, drawing a full body shudder from Dean once again. 

“Y-yeah. I thought I’d…” He pulled back slightly, lifting on his hands so he was leaning over Cas again. His eyes were lust blown and gorgeous as Cas stared up into them. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do this...that I’d only remember how he felt...but this...this is...I mean, shit.” He shuddered again as Cas purposefully pressed into that spot with an extra flare. “I-it doesn’t even compare...this is just…” He couldn’t get the words out, so instead he surged forward and pressed his lips passionately to Cas’, grinding his ass back and down, giving them both a taste of the friction they desired. “I want you Cas.” He groaned, reaching down between their bodies and gripping their lengths together in his palm, pumping them both eagerly. “Want you in me again.” He panted into Cas’ mouth, pulling back from the kiss.

He sat up straight, rocking back into the three fingers inside him once more before reaching back to pull Cas’ hand away. He pushed himself up on his knees slightly, stabilizing himself on Cas chest and gripped Cas’ cock firmly around the base.

“What about a cond-” Cas’ question was cut off by Dean sinking down onto him in one slow slide. He gripped Cas’ hip as he sank lower and lower until at last he was fully seated on Cas, a slightly pinched look on his face. Cas reached for him and slotted his own fingers to Dean’s hips, biting his lip hard as he watched Dean work through the initial ache. Dean closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath before rocking his hips up and back, grazing that sweet spot inside himself and eliciting a little whine from his lips, the tension easing from his features as he opened lidded pools of lust to peer down at Cas.

“No condoms.” He pushed himself up and back down, grinding in deep with a little tremble of his limbs. “They took that choice from me before...but now...with you…” He arched his back and pushed his hips down again, earning a sharp groan from them both. “I want to feel all of you. I want you and you alone to know my body, know me like this.” He offered a tiny smile, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “You love me.” He whispered in awe. “You’ve cared for me.” He panted, his rhythm steady and intense, driving them both closer to the edge with each rock and dip and slide. “You waited, you asked for my permission...you ached and you yearned and you never took what I wanted to give you, never forced me.” He sunk down with a sharp jerk of his hips, drawing a shudder from Cas as the muscles of his ass clenched tight and then slid away in a slow tease. “You took away the pain, Cas.” He stopped with a small roll of his hips, leaning over Cas again, planting his forearms on the mattress besides his head. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He panted against Cas’ lips.

Cas let out a shuddering whimper, hooking his leg around Dean’s waist and twisting them over so Dean was on his back. He ran his fingers through his hair and down the sides of Dean’s face, caressing with a passionate stream of kisses across his lips and down his neck.

“I promised you.” He whispered as he slid one hand down to wrap around Dean’s thus far neglected cock, playing with the flushed head in nimble fingers. “The moment I said the words I love you I gave you everything I am.” He pulled at Dean’s heated flesh steadily until Dean was whining, hips twisting as he opened himself wider for Cas and wrapped a leg around his back. 

“C-cas. Please...need you to move.” He gasped, feeling his orgasm rising faster with the intense attention. His fingers scrambled at Cas’ back and finally settled into his hair, pulling him down for a desperate kiss, back arching as he rocked his hips a little and tried to get Cas to move again. 

“I’m going to marry you in the sun.” Cas whispered into Dean’s mouth, rocking his hips in slowly. “On the beach, with sand between our toes.” He thrust in hard, feeling the fluttering of Dean’s body as he got closer and closer, fighting off the orgasm trying to claw its way out. “The sun will catch on your lashes, your eyes will light up to a sparkling dew colored green, and your freckles will caress your cheeks like a flush.” He smiled as he saw the color bloom on Dean’s cheeks, highlighting those same freckles he was talking about. “Just like that.” He groaned, sliding his free hand along Dean’s sides, teasing the little dips and raised scars. He brought his hand up to the side of his neck and glided his fingers over the little sensitive spot behind his right ear. “And you’ll look like Adonis, and you’ll shine more brightly than the sun, your smile will be radiant, and I’ll slide that second ring on your finger knowing you survived-that you came back to me and you still loved me.” He thrust in hard, twisting his fingers around the edge of Dean’s cock, milking precum from him as he gasped and twitched and dug at his shoulders. “And when people ask me my name, I’ll be able to tell them with a smile of pride that it’s Castiel-” His hips stuttered and he felt Dean’s body grappling for control as tears sprang to his eyes, green never leaving blue as he listened to the passionate words flooding from his mouth. “-Winchester.” 

Dean’s orgasm punched through him, making his back arch, his fingers dig in deep, and his eyes flutter closed as he let out a mewling cry, two tears dripping down the sides of his face towards his ears, only to be kissed away as Castiel thrust a few more times, unable to deny his own orgasm as he felt Dean’s body clenching and fluttering around him. He flushed as he felt his cum fill Dean’s body, uncontained and messily coating him deep. He pulled out slowly, hand gentle on Dean’s trembling hip. He flushed to feel the warm liquid drip free, resisting the urge to look as he turned his eyes instead back to Dean’s face, seeing the bewildered, daze look in his eyes. 

He leaned down and rest their foreheads together, soothing his hands down Dean’s arms where they’d fallen heavily to the mattress besides him. “You okay?” 

Dean nodded mutely, blinking up at Cas as he stayed unmoving. 

“You sure?” He asked, uncertainly, worry so engrained in him he couldn’t help but ask, couldn’t help but make sure. 

“Your tie will be saphire blue…” Dean whispered, bringing his fingers up to trace Cas’ collar bone. “And somehow…” He peeked up at Cas with creamy seashell foam green eyes. “Just like always…” His lips curved up slightly at the corners. “When you meet me at the altar-” He settled his palm flat to Cas’ chest over his heart. “It will be backwards, and loose from its clip.” He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening his eyes once more, tilting his head and giving Castiel a soft smile. “And I’ll take your hands when you reach me, and I’ll give you an affectionate smile, and I’ll fix your tie with knowing fingers…” 

“And I’ll kiss you in thanks like I have every time…” Cas supplied, settling his own palm over Dean’s heart.

Dean nodded slightly, bringing his free hand up to Cas’ cheek, holding it tenderly. “And I’ll kiss you, like I do everytime.” He confirmed, drawing his lover down for a tender kiss. “And I’ll take you home, and I’ll love you like it was the first time all over again. And the memories won’t be able be able to touch us, taint us. It will just be you and me, old and new.” 

“And I’ll pull a garter from your thigh with my teeth-” 

Dean let out a startled laugh, shaking with amusement as he turned them over suddenly, wrapping his arms around Cas and shaking his head.”I don’t know about that one, Cas.” 

“Fine. Then you’ll pull a garter from MY thigh with your teeth.” He amended, lacing his fingers in Dean’s hair and kissing him deeply once more. 

Dean’s rumbling laugh settled Cas’ heart, eased him into his lovers arms more easily. “Yeah, okay, Cas. Whatever you want.” 

They went silent after that, staring into each other’s eyes and tracing each other’s features with their gazes and finger tips, unable to get enough of each other.

“We’ll get matching tattoos.” Cas whispered into the silence. “So we’ll never forget.” He traced his thumb across Dean’s hip bone. “And only you and I will ever know.”

“Whatever you want, Cas.” Dean repeated, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “As long as I get to ink you.” 

“You better learn how then.” Cas teased, eyes sparkling. 

The playful smirk of Dean’s lips made his heart flutter as he saw the confident, pleased look in his eyes. “The guy who did my wings-” Dean started, taking one of Cas’ hands in his and guiding it to his back. “-already started teaching me. He left a message, said he’d apprentice me as long as I inked one of my sketches on him down the line.” 

“That’s incredible, Dean.” Castiel said sincerely, seeing the eager light in those green eyes. “I’m happy for you…” He leaned in closer, pressing their foreheads together and pressing a tender kiss to his lips, and then his nose. “Truly. When you didn’t-” He hesitated before glancing up at Dean and continuing on softly. “When you didn’t have your voice...I was so scared you wouldn’t-” He choked up a little, closing his eyes. “I feared you’d-” He wrapped his arms around Dean. “I missed it, you. I thought I’d never hear you again, that I-I’d never see you happy or eager again...I was scared you’d not pursue your dreams.” He caressed Dean’s throat gently, willing away the tears. “I just wanted to see you happy again, passionate about something-” 

“I’m passionate about you.” Dean teased, trying to ease the bubble of pain in Cas’ chest that came from the recently old memories. Cas gave him a tiny withering look and Dean couldn’t help but smile shyly in return. “I’m sorry. I know-I...I was scared too.” He admitted. 

“I miss that cafe, sometimes.” Cas admitted, aching to re-live the gentle, peaceful memories there. 

“Tomorrow.” Dean whispered, kissing along the edge of Cas’ temple. “It’s a date.”

“You always did think up the perfect dates.” Castiel sniffled, wiping at his nose with one of his knuckles, surprised by how emotional he felt right now. “I’ve missed those, too.” 

“We have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time.” Dean soothed, tucking his legs into Cas and reaching for the sheets, dragging them up around their cooled off limbs. He nestled in closer to Cas and closed his eyes. “I promise you now, Castiel James Novak.” He whispered into their air around them. “I will give you my all and everything, from now until the day I die. I will cherish and adore you, I will love you to the end of eternity and after. Through all the heart ache, the pain, the PTSD...I will love you with all I am. You are my angel, my lover, my best friend.” He laced their fingers together between their chests, rings slotting against rings. “My savior." He choked out. "And I can’t wait to share my name and my hand with you."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, you guys. I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it took so long, got run into the ground a while there. Had to revamp the whole ending I had planned cause of writers block. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck with me through all the heart break and pain. Here's some gloriously smoopy closure and a fun for you guys.

Aaron stared at Prof. Winchester, barely taking in word he was saying. He was hypnotized the the gravel rough voice, the “I gargle with whiskey” tone low and spewing knowledge and deep insights at the dumbfoundedly awed students. He’d learned early in the semester that if he didn’t record the class, then he would be failing. His notes were a lost cause, and so he spent an hour every day relistening to that rumbling voice as he wrote out the fascinating words.

He’d never had a teacher like Prof. Winchester before, a teacher that just got it. He had a nature charm, and he knew his stuff. He knew how to make books that in highschool had bored Aaron sound like magic. Aaron had never met a teacher that was so young that taught like a decades old expert in a field. The man was just out of graduate school, and he still had a youthful energy, a twinkle in his eyes that was playful and a little quirky. Aaron could watch him all day, and he’d still be a mystery to him. The look that made Prof. Winchester so fascinating, though, was that soft, far away look he got in his eyes when he looked at his wedding band. It was the way he’d gently trace his thumb across the two circles and smile softly, just a subtle quirk of his lips.

It was the person on the other side of that look that drove him nuts the most. He wanted to know, he needed to know. He had a guess, an inkling backed by old memories that had him thinking he knew who it was that held Prof. Winchester’s rings on their fingers.

Ever since Aaron had come to class high for a few days in a row that one time, he’d been obsessed. It was like highschool all over again, with his fascination for that gorgeous bartender. He was one dream crossing the boundaries away from having a crush on the blue eyed professor. And that, those eyes. The squinty looks, that way he would tilt his head and stare too long sometimes when a student was talking - that look had made Aaron lose his train of thought one day when he was trying to defend his point. He’d butchered what he’d been trying to say, ran himself into the ground. And Prof. Winchester had been able to rescue him, mind seeming to comprehend what Aaron couldn't even remember was his original point. It happened to a lot of the students in class sometimes. They’d get this glazed look on their faces and trail off into nothingness and Prof. Winchester would be able to pick up their thought and elaborate on and develop that thought into this spontaneous poetry that had every student scrambling to write down the wisdom that had just come out of his mouth.

Today was the day, though, the day that he was going to go and figure it out once and for all. Prof. Winchester’s class ended right before noon, and he always disappeared into his office for a good hour before opening his office again. Students had a theory that he was having lunch with his significant other, or more. There was a hush-hush rumour that once a week Prof. Winchester’s _husband_ came to have lunch and spend time with him. There was blushing and giggles about how if you had office hours with him after, Prof. Winchester would have this freshly-fucked look to him, and a ring of barely hidden hickies around his collar. He would have a far off look and a distracted demeanor about him.

Today Aaron was going to find out the truth for himself. No one ever saw who it was that Prof. Winchester met every wednesday. No one ever got a chance to see before the door was being closed and locked. But Aaron had found the spot, the perfect spot, to see into Prof. Winchester’s office. To see, and to hear it, thanks to the his master plan.

When the class finally ended, Aaron clicked off his recorder and got his bag together, keeping a careful eye on how fast Prof. Winchester was getting his things together. He positioned himself to knock into the older male as they headed for the door, putting a little to much force into the bump. Prof. Winchester when stumbling, dropping his shoulder bag and spilling the contents of the folder that had been in his hands a moment ago.

“Oh! Prof. Winchester. I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to plow you down. Let me help with that.” He quickly bent down to pick up the man’s bag, slipping a cell phone into one of the outer pockets quickly before he could see and handing it back to him as he stood back up from picking up his papers.

“Don’t worry about it, Aaron. It happens every once in a while.” He smiled softly, taking his bag back and shrugging it on to his shoulder once more. He pat Aaron on the side of the arm and turned back to the door, smiling more fully. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you in class on Friday.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He answered lamely, waiting for Prof. Winchester to head out first before rushing out and to his preprepared spot, turning on the volume to his ear piece. He heard the rustlign of fabric on the other side, and people walking through the halls. Perfect, it had worked. Darting outside and to the next walkway over, he jumped off path and into a raised section of bushes that looped around and would offer him a hidden spot in the foliage to spy on the office on the second floor. The room was usually unviewable from the walkway or from the paths behind where Aaron was stacking out now, and thus made it difficult for Aaron to find any other way to get a peek inside.

He heard a door open, and knew Prof. Winchester was getting in to the staff section of the floor where all the offices where. Not to many feet more and he heard another door. He got into spot just as he heard the rich rumble of a male voice say “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Dean.” Prof. Winchester sighed the name softly, just as Aaron got a lock on the window. He felt heat flush his cheeks as he saw the scene, swallowing hard at the sight of the two handsome men sharing a deeply passionate kiss.

When they parted for breath they were panting softly, staying close together for a short moment of silence. Prof. Winchester placed another soft kiss to plush lips before brushing around the taller figure, playfully swatting his ass as he rounded the desk and set his things down. He set the bag on the desk and stashed the file in a small tray before bringing his eyes back up to the blond haired man’s gaze.

“You know, I never get tired of seeing you like this.” Dean’s rumbling voice was barely distorted through the bag any more, and Aaron quickly checked to see that the bag was secure. He spotted the corner ofhis phone sticking out of the bag, but neither of the rooms occupants seemed to notice it. Good.

“Like what?” Prof.Winchester asked with a knowing smile. He cocked his hip out a little and leaned against the side of his desk with his thumbs in his pockets.

“All dressed up and sexy like this.” Dean stepped into his husbands space and slotted his fingers to slender hips. “I think you became a professor just to guarentee I’d never get tired out you.”

The blue eyed man’s lips turned up in a playful smile as he swayed into the touch on his hips, setting a hand on the broad chest in front of him and tip toeing his fingers up the black tee shirt he was wearing. “Well, that may have been an contributing thought.” He smirked, trailing a finger along the edge of the tee shirts collar, circling his hands around the man’s neck. “But we both know you’ll never get tired of me. I know all the right buttons to push, afterall.” He trailed a finger along the backs of Dean’s ears, dipping back right behind the lobes and tickling the spot gently.

Dean shivered and his gaze darkened. He slowly dragged his teeth across his lower lip, eyeing the man in front of him with a ferocity that Aaron had never seen in anyone’s gaze before. The silent, intense connection between the two men was making goosebumps ghost Aaron’s arms and the back of his neck. The way they looked at each other it was like nothing else mattered, like nothing could get between them.

“Cas.” The name was said gently, barely a whisper on Aaron’s end. Tender and sincere “I could never get tired of you. I love you too much.”

A bright smile broke across Castiel’s face and he pulled himself in closer to Dean’s body, slotting them together as he felt Dean’s arms circle his waist, fingers dipping into his back pockets. “As I do you, my dear.” Castiel responded gently, leaning in and sealing their lips once more. His fingers laced into short sandy locks, as his other hand slid up under Dean’s shirt.

“Mmm. You’re definitely right about that buttons thing…” Dean rumbled, pulling back from the kiss. “Speaking of.” His eyes traveled down Castiel’s body slowly. “You have far too many still buttoned.” He smirked playfully, drawing his hands around the Cas’ front and making quick work of his shirt buttons.

“I like making you work for it.” Castiel teased back, curling his fingers into Dean’s tee shirt and pulling it up. The blond paused his assault of the other male’s shirt to allow the tee to be removed. Aaron was not prepared for what he saw. Broad golden muscles were covered in tattoos and scars like none other he had seen or heard of before. He had to stifle a gasp, swallowing hard. It took him a moment to realize the scars didn’t phase his professor at all, and instead hands were nimbly working on undoing the buttons of Dean’s jeans now.

“It’s a good thing I like showing off for you.” Dean chuckled, grabbing Castiel’s hips after getting the last shirt button undone. He pushed the smaller male backward, towards a love seat tucked into the corner. Aaron readjusted slightly to maintain a good view, licking suddenly dry lips. This was heating up a lot faster than he had expected. He’d expected something like this, but seeing it all in real time was another thing completely. There would be no going back from this, sitting in class every day now he would have this scene stuck in his head.

Dean backed Castiel to the edge of the loveseat and then stopped to undo the man’s pants, fingers quickly undoing the buttons and zipper as their lips locked once more in a hot kiss. Castiel’s fingers dipped into the back of Dean’s jeans, grabbing two handfuls of ass and pulling him in close, grinding deliberately with a hypnotizing roll of his hips.

Dean let out a soft moan, shoving one hand down the front of Castiel’s undone pants. “You know-” He panted between kisses, trailing his lips down Cas’ jaw as he jerked his wrist gently a few times. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this. Even when we’re old and I’m all wrinkled and scarred with fading tats and walking with a fucking cane everywhere I go.”

“I look forward to it.” Castiel responded breathily, squeezing the firm muscles in his palms and trailing a finger between the cheeks. He let out a pleased sound, smile curling his lips. “Mhm, had some free time on your hands today, huh.” He laughed.

“Had you on my mind.” Dean responded, pushing Castiel suddenly down onto the seat behind him, smirking down at him as he slowly got on his knees in front of the other male. “You’re my own personal drug, you know.”

“So you’ve claimed before.” Castiel panted, eyes never leaving the green eyed man now working his pants down to his thighs, pulling his cock free with a firm hand around his base. Dean gave Castiel a smoldering look before dipping down, spreading the younger male’s legs around his shoulders as he lavished attention on the flushed cockhead before him.

He moaned deeply, pulling back with a obscene swipe of his tongue across the slit, to look up at Castiel through thick lashes. Castiel’s fingers had found their way into his hair once more, and blue eyes were lidded with lust. “Delicious.” Pink flared on Castiel’s cheeks before he was tugging at Dean’s hair, pushing his head back towards his hardened cock.

Aaron had never seen Castiel like this before, handsy and eager and a little bit forceful. Aaron bit his lower lip hard, palming his cock through his jeans, the material increasingly restrictive as he watched the scene. Watching sex had never been this extreme for him before. He wanted to be right there in that room, sharing those intense gaze, the knowing touches. He wanted to be right there on the floor between Castiel’s legs, staring into blue, and right there on that couch getting the best head of his life. The way Dean’s head bobbed up and down was better than any porn he’d watched in his life. He could see the way Castiel was slowly falling apart under the expert administrations, fingers getting more restless as he tugged on short strands and clutched at strong shoulders.

He let out a little gasping whine when he saw Dean pull off, biting back a whimper as he realized he’d been furiously palming himself through his jeans. He could feel a wet patch growing, and shit, he was not going to last long watching this. He sucked in a breath as he continued watching.

Dean slowly made his way up from Castiel’s cock to his neck, licking and nipping along the way as his hands found the edge of Castiel’s pants once more, tugging them down toned runners legs, and discarding them on the floor before moving to push off the shirt he’d left hanging on narrow shoulders.

“How shall we do this, my love?” Dean asked with a purr into the raven haired male’s ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Well first, you’re going to need to take your pants off.” He reply in a gravel tone, voice some how even lower than normal.

Dean let out a little laugh, planting his hands on Castiel’s thighs and pushing himself up so he was standing. He winced slightly, letting out a small noise of discomfort and grimacing. Castiel was sitting up on the edge of the couch instantly, hands on the other male with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just my shoulder.” Dean rubbed at his left shoulder lightly, before dropping his hands down palm up in front of himself. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“So you always say.” Castiel growled, taking the offered hands and standing up. He grabbed Dean’s hips firmly and pressed their lips together fiercely, swallowing down Dean’s moans. It was Dean’s turn to be back up into something. Aaron’s professor pushed him back towards the desk, swiping one arm out to push everything to one side of the wooden surface. Aaron held his breath as the bag nearly toppled to the floor but remained steadily on the table after a moment. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”

“I’m not.” Dean sighed with a put upon huff. “I just overdid it working on Baby this morning. It’s nothing. I promise.” He hopped up onto the table, dragging Castiel into his arms and trying to distract him with confident hands gliding down his sides and the backs of his thighs. “If you’re really that worried I’ll let you baby me at home. Later. I promise.”

Castiel sighed heavily, obviously still woried, but unable to stop his roaming hands as they caressed massive tattooed wings on his lover’s back, gliding his hands around to wide hips. He tucked his thumbs into loose denim and pulled the undone material down, working it under the fantastically round ass that Aaron could hardly stop staring at, and working them off scarred legs. He paused to let vibrant blue eyes wander down the exposed form in front of him, licking his lips slowly as he took in the man he’d married those years ago.

He seemed to mellow out for a moment, face going soft and slightly far way as he reached out and caressed something on Dean’s hip that Aaron could not see from his current angle. “I’m always worried about you.” He sighed softly, tilting his head in that uniquely Castiel way, meeting understanding green eyes. “It’s kind of in the job description.”

“Job description?”

“To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for pooer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

“Angel, being married is not a job.” Dean laughed, smiling endearingly up at the concerned man.

“But it does in fact have a description in which I have every right to worry about you. Besides, you’re a magnet for trouble. And you never tell me when things are hurting. You’re gonna be a pain in the ass when you’re old.”

“True, but I’ll have you right there to mellow me out and sit on the porch with me as I spray the neighbor kids with the hose.”

Castiel laughed warmly, leaning in and kissing Dean lightly. “And by neighbor kids you mean Sam and his kids.”

“Exactly. See? What are you even worrying about? Shut up and kiss me, you nerd.” He huffed, dragging Castiel down for a passionate kiss with one hand in his mass of dark hair as the other finger pinched at one of Castiel’s nipples.

Castiel let out a small warning growl, grabbing Dean’s hips and pulling them to the edge of the table before pushing him down onto his back. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I never claimed I wasn’t.” Dean said with a confident smirk, spreading his legs wide. Aaron flushed as it finally clicked. The gentle, sweet, quirky professor was the top in this relationship. Aaron could feel his mouth literally hanging open as he watched Castiel duck down, trailing kisses, licks, and nips down the scarred chest laid out for him. He bypassed Dean’s neglected cock and instead pushed Dean’s legs open wider around his shoulders, sucking a dark purple hickie into one of his thighs before venturing lower. Aaron felt pre-cum soak his boxers as he watched Castiel slowly pull a pink butt plug from Dean’s hole, setting it aside without a second thought, and dipping down to plunge his tongue into it’s emptied space. Dean’s moan was gorgeous and desperate, his fingers curling into the edge of the table near his ass as his husband licked him open, soon pressing in two fingers along side his tongue.

“Tell me what you want, Dean.”

Dean’s breath hitched, and he bit at his bottom lip hard. “Please, Cas. I want you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you, Dean.”

Fingers curled and pressed and Aaron watched the way Dean’s thick cock twitched and dribble precum against his belly button, a fine tremble going through his whole body as Castiel teased the spot inside him. “Want you…” He panted, turning his head and peering down at Castiel with fire in his eyes. His lips quirked up as he met those blue eyes. “I want your beautiful, big cock buried in me. I want your balls slapping against my ass until I’m sore from it. I want your cum fucked deep into my ass. I want to watch you take whatever you want from me and more.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed to intense slits, dangerous, almost angry looking. He was standing up, though, and lining himself up, one hand on Dean’s hip as the other guided him in. He pushed the head of his cock into the warmth of Dean’s body before pausing, hand coming up to grab a handful of Dean’s hair. He paused for one moment, lips quirking up lopsidedly before he was suddenly burried deep.

Aaron shoved his hand down the font of his pants, grabbing his cock and pulling it free as he watched, unable to turn back now. God, this was the best and worst decision of his life. Watching his professor fuck into the man on the table was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Their hands were gentle and firm, scratching and caressing, and not once did the scars on Dean’s body trip Castiel up. He manhandled the blond across the table, shifting their positions to change the depths of his thrust, to angel in better, and it wasn’t long before all Aaron could hear were Dean’s moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Dean was clutching the desk hard, each thrust rocking his whole body. Aaron could have sworn the desk moved a few inches before Castiel even changed positions.

He pulled out of Dean and dragged him off the desk, fucking into his mouth for a minute as he fisted the weeping cock between trembling thighs. He pulled back and turned Dean around, pushing him back over the desk, this time chest down and told him to hold on as he lined himself back up and pushed in again. Their bodies moved together like a well oiled machine, each thrust in met by a thrust back. Aaron could hardly keep his eyes off the look on the green eyed man’s face. He was erotic and gorgeous, strong yet willingly submissive. Aaron could have sworn this blond was going to be on top, fucking into Castiel fast and slow, fingering him open with big, thick fingers. This, though, this reversal of assumed roles was the best development Aaron had ever stumble across. Castiel was like a whole other person standing their confidently fucking his lover, driving him nuts with each thrust and every touch. He felt his own orgasm rising fast, wavering on the edge as he watched Castiel reach across the desk, grab the edge of the wood instead of the firm shoulders before him, and jack hammer his hips hard into Dean’s pliant, wreathing body. Aaron had no doubt each thrust of those narrow hips was bullseyeing Dean’s prostrate, because the moans coming from that man’s mouth were the most pornographic things he had ever heard. And knowing they were genuine, seeing how Dean was falling apart was the most spectacular thing Aaron had witnessed, ever. Sex from now on would have to live up to this memory, this pee show that he wasn’t even involved in.

He came hard seconds before he heard Castiel tell Dean to come untouched. It was three sharp thrust before Dean’s back as bending, spasming as his hands scrambled at Castiel’s own fingers in front of him. And then three more before Castiel was stilling, eyes closed as his shoulders shook and his mouth fell open a trembling moan.

They stayed like that on the table, unmoving, for a good few minutes before Dean made a small sound, shifting on the table beneath Castiel. The professor took his cue and slowly pulled out, reaching for that bright pink plug and sliding it into place with a small swirl around the stretched rim to collect the cum that tried to escape. Dean let out a content little sound, sighing as he felt the warmth as his back move away. He pushed himself up on shaky arms, turning and being wrapped up instantly by Castiel’s supportive arms.

“I got you.” He smiled, pecking a kiss to the side of Dean’s slack mouth. “That was a little intense, wasn’t it.”

Dean let out a tired sounding huff, smiling dazedly. “My legs fell like jelly.” He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck and kissed him on the cheek gently. He closed his eyes and hooked his head over his husband’s shoulder. Aaron was out for the count, laying helplessly on the ground under the bushes with come coating his hands and making a mess of his jeans. He tuned out what was being said, binoculars forgotten at his side as he stared up at the green leaves of the bush above him.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the words on the other side of the phone, to lost in post-orgasmic bliss to hear one of them leave the office suddenly. It was moments later that he heard someone clearing their throat, and opened his eyes to see a very pissed off looking Dean standing mere feet from him, arms crossed over his chest as he held the cell phone Aaron had planted in one of his hands.

“Having fun, I see.”

Aaron sat bolt upright, hitting his head in the bushes, scrambling to tuck himself away and wipe his hands on the ground to clean them of evidence, failing to hide the binoculars and ear piece behind him.

“You’re really not fooling anyone, you know. Grab you stuff and follow me.” Aaron cowered under the anger in that voice that moments ago had been moaning a litnay of filth to his professor as he was fucked into the table. Good, the voice was beautiful in every rendition Aaron had heard, and shit if his prediction had been right. Standing right in front of him was Dean Winchester, barista, tattoo artist, and husband to his literature teacher. His first ever gay crush. Flashback to highschool and daily visits to a secluded yet popular coffee shop where green eyes sparkled and made studying difficult as he watched two brothers and a younge college student sit around a table and form a life together.

He swallowed hard and grabbed his things, doing his best to make hismelf presentable as he followed Dean back to the building, and up to the office he had just been spying on. He held his back in front of himself, trying to hide the cum stains on the edges of his jeans, his fingers still feeling sticky and gross. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Dean’s ass as he followed him, imagining that hot pink plug buried in his ass, with a warm batch of cum coating his insides. He felt his exhausted dick twich helplessly, wanting to come back to life already.

The door opened to Castiel’s office, the smell hit him hard. There was no denying they’d just fucked in there, fresh stick of incense of not. Even if the table had been cleaned off, and their clothes righted, Aaron would never see this room the same way again.

“I caught our spy.” Dean growled low.

Castiel’s face was a mix of mortification, anger, and disbelief. “What did I tell you about being a magnet for trouble?”

“Hey, now, blue-eyes. I’m pretty sure this one is on you.” Dean said, pushing Aaron down into one of the desk chairs. “You know him?”

Castiel sighed heavily, nodding reluctantly. “He’s a student.”

“I guess I’m not the only one with a kink for professors.” Dean grumbled, taking up a seat in the spot next to Aaron, brandishing the phone in his hands before setting on the desk. “Interesting trick.”

“Aaron.” Castiel said with a heavy sigh. “Do you care to explain yourself?”

Aaron’s face went pale as a sheet and then as bright red as he spoke up. “I-I Uhm...I-I...I”m sorry! It’s just in class with the looks, and the rings, and the rumors fro mthe other kids, I had to find out for sure, and I-I….I mean i thought it might be true, and that your two might actually, but I never meant to, you know, g-get...get off on it or anything. It’s just, i mean, you get it!” He suddenly turned his gaze to Dean. “His fucking voice. I mean, jesus christ. It’s a wonder I can even work my record for notes. And shit, I really didn’t mean to but i came to class high a few times and you know how it is, your brain just latches on to things, and jesus, the looks, and the-the little quirks, and what the other students where saying. And, I mean, I hada hunch, about you.” He looked uncertainly to Dean, unable to stop the word vomit spewing out of him. “I mean, cause I knew. Or Ithought I knew, and I was right, and shit. Fuck. I really didn’t mean to, i mean, i did but i didn’t and jesus christ you two are hot. I mean, I don’t- that’s super inappropriate, and I”m sorry, but shit son. You two are like...just wow. I mean, you ought to be professionals. That was incredible. Smokin. Top of the line, best scene I’ve ever watched.”

“Aaron.” Castiel’s voice was a deep, dangerous rumble and Aaron’s mouth fell shut instantly, locking up as he stared down at his backpack covered lap. Shit. “Not only did you just spy on me, you planted a phone in my bag and admitted to coming to my class high.” Aaron flinched. “You’re not exactly redeeming yourself.”

“Sorry.” He croaked.

Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This could get you in serious trouble. You do realize, that, right?”

“Yes, sir. I know.” He peeked up and saw the exhausted, contemplative look on his professors face, daring to glance at Dean and seeing the angry scowl still in place.

“Okay. We’ll start with this. There is a staff bathroom just down the hall. Please go...clean up. This is awkward enough as it is. I need to figure out how to handle this.”

“Y-yes, sir. Right away.” He nearly darted out of the room, leaving Castiel and Dean alone to figure out how to sort this whole situation out.

“You get this a lot, do you, Prof.?” Dean couldn’t help but tease.

“Oh, don’t you even start. This is as much your fault as it is mine.” Castiel rolled his eyes, eyes traveling down Dean’s recovered body. It was a pity that they’d had to finish up so quickly, but the moment Dean had seen that phone sticking out of Castiel’s bag, it had been game over for the post-orgasm bliss. “I told you you were a magnet.”

“Who knew that we both were.” Dean smirked.

Ccastiel sighed heavily, walking over and carding his fingers through Dean’s alrredy messed up hair. “This is a very serious situation. You get that, right?”

“I know.” Dean’s face was intense and serious, a tired, aged look crossing his eyes. “A bit too serious for my comfort. I”m getting to old for creepers.”

“I need to figure out what to do about him. He’s a good student, if distractable in class, but he has good grades. But I can’t keep him in my class is he’s going to be spying on me and staring at me innappropriately during class.”

“I second that.” Dean growled softly, stroking Castiel’s hip bones gently where he held his hips. “I don’t like knowing that anyone but me has seen you naked.”

“Saw a little more than just that.” Castiel huffed. “I’ve had to share you with too many unwanted gazes and men already, I’m certainly not going to reward his behavior.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. He certainly spewed a lot at us, though. I have a feeling there is a bit more history to this than he’s letting on.”

The sound of the door creaking open startled both men’s eyes to where Aaron was standing sheepishly by the door, appearing a little more acceptable. “T-there...there is.”

Castiel sighed, nodding to himself as he caressed Dean’s cheek one last time and took a step back, circling around his his desk chair. “Take a seat and explain, then.”

Aaron shuffled over to the seat by Dean uncertainly, glancing at him sideways as he settled down, backpack at his feet. He swallowed hard. “Back in highschool...I used to go to the coffee shop.” Dean sat up straighter in his chair, sharing a look with Castiel that had a twinge of ‘i told you so’ thrown in from Castiel’s side. “I had a crush on Dean, for a long time. He was my first real crush after I realized I was gay...and when he stopped working there I…” He swallowed hard. “I never knew what happened, and then a few weeks ago I, uh, I was looking at some tattoo designs, and I found his page, and from there I found his studio page...and I...I mean. Shit. You’re famous. Like, really famous.” His eyes sparkled as he stared at Dean. “Your name and your art is huge in the tattoo scene these days. You have a cult following for your studio work, too.” He shrank back in his seat when he realized the glare he was getting from Dean, layered with years worth of discomfort at this kind of conversation. “I never knew what happened after the coffee shop, but I remembered the two of you. And I know your name on the website is an alias, but I knew. And then one day in class, I saw some of Prof. Winchester’s back tattoo showing and I recognized it from the website, and I knew he, you-” He looked at Castiel with a hesitant waver of a smile. “where the guy from the coffee shop those years ago.”

“You mentioned a rumour with the other students.” Castiel prompted, fingers folded in front of him as he stared across the desk, eyes narrowed.

“Y-Yeah. Uh. About that. It’s a...I mean, it’s...well. You have office hours an hour later on Wednesdays, today, than you do all the other days we have class. And there are some students that have come in to talk with you and they...uhm...well. They almost always say the same thing - that you look freshly fucked.”

Castiel’s cheeks turneda deep red, and Dean let out a snicker. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

“Dean, quiet, please.” Castiel grumbled, shooting his husband a glare that held no heat to it. It was obvious he was embarrassed by the whole situation.

“And you always have hickies around your collar-” Cas’ flush deepened as he adjusted his collar, a purple spot still peeking up from one side. He shot Dean another pointed glare. “And you’re always a bit...spacey. Kind of, far away acting for a while. I mean, you still help us out and do your job, but it’s...kind of cute actually.”

“Hey now,” Dean snarled at Aaron, eyes sharp. “Watch it.”

“Well, it’s true!”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, you’ve already over stepped your boundries today.” Dean growled.

“That’s enough, you two.” Castiel huffed, scrubbing his hands down his face and running his hands through his hair in an exhausted seeming manner. “Aaron. What you did is inexcusable. I can’t keep you in my class.”

“W-what?!” He sat up straighter, leaning towards the desk. “B-but-!”

“No buts, Aaron. Not only did you invade my privacy, but you invade my husband’s. I am not comfortable with the knowledge that you have seen me have sex. I do not share my husband with anyone, you see, and I do not take kindly to men overstepping their boundries with him.”

“He’s shot a man before.” Dean perked up, shooting Aaron a raised brow look. “Twice.”

The color drained from Aaron’s face. “Dean, not necessary.”

“But true.”

“Shit-” Aaron breathed. “Really?” Dean nodded, even as Castiel shot him a warning look.

“I will send you out of the room, Dean.” Dean held up his hands defenseively, miming a zipper over his lips and settling back into his chair.

“He’s got you whipped.” Aaron whispered to the side, getting a small smile and nod from Dean as Castiel glowered at them.

“Aaron.” Castiel growled warningly. “Commentary is really not helping your case here.”

“Sorry, sir.” He ducked his head down sheepishly, realizing he was just as whipped as Dean was, if not more so. He was in serious trouble right now, and Castiel held the future of his career as a student in his hands.

“I can forgive you on one account. I will ignore the fact that you admitted to coming to my class stoned. I understand that smoking is not as big a deal as a lot of people make it. That does not, however, warrant your continued use of it during class time.” He tapped his finger on the desk near the phone that lay their incriminatingly. “This. Is not so easy to forgive. You betrayed my trust in you as a student by planting this on me. Trust me when I say I really, truly, do not like being spied on in any manner.”

Aaron swallowed hard, shringking into the chair more.

“My private life is exactly that. Private. And I have had to share my husbands intimacy with too many people in the past against his will. You crossed a boundry that I can not forgive. So, what I’m going to do now is going to be unfotunate, but necessary.”

“Oh god, please don’t get me expelled.” Aaron felt his heart drop to his stomach, real fear suddenly taking over in place of the residual orgasmic high had been riding on thus far that was making him easier going about this than he really should have been. It didn’t help that he as half high and sobering up very quickly.

“You’re a good student, Aaron. Despite the fact you seem to be very distractable in class, and smoke before my lectures. You have good grades, and you only have one more year left before you graduate. Correct?”

“Y-yes, sir. I graduate next spring.”

“That’s what I thought.” Castiel let out a heavy sigh. “What I’m going to do now is talk with the chair of the department and see if I can get you transfered into a new class for the remainder of the semester. Since it is past the late-drop period, you would need special permission in order to cancel the credit for this class. I do not want to fail you, but I can not continue to teach you. I will talk with the Mrs. Gladstone tomorrow, and will be in touch with you about how we will proceed from here. I suggest you keep an eye on your email.”

“O-of course, sir, yes, yeah, okay. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means. I’m reall,y, truly sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundries. It won’t happen again. Ever. I promise.”

“Oh, I have no doubts of that.” Castiel said with a tight smile. “You’re excused, Mr. Bass.”

Aaron scrambled up, grabbing his bag and darting out of the office quickly. Dean and Castiel both watched him go, waiting for the sound of the outer office door to click shut before turning to look back at each other.

“Well damn, Mr. Authority figure.”

Castiel let out an exhausted sigh, crumbling across his desk top, spreading his arms out towards Dean, palm up. The gentle weight of warm fingers against his soothed him, easing the minor tension headache he as forming.

“Are you going to be that intense with our baby girl when she gets in trouble?” Dean asked with a soft eyed look. Castiel tilted his head and met his gaze, feeling instantly more at peace with those gentle green eyes on him, trying to make the situation better than it really was.

“Well you’re a big softie, so someone will have to discipline here.” Castiel mumbled.

Dean laughed softly, shaking his head and dragging his chair closer to the desk, draping himself across the table top in mirror of his husband, pushing Cas’ arms open a little and nuzzling his nose against Castiel’s with a tiny eskimo kiss. “I can’t believe the Charlie and Gilda were actually willing to be surrogates.”

“Jesus, neither can I.” Castiel said with a huff of a laugh, closing his eyes and lacing his fingers with Dean’s by their heads. “Two more months.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay with cutting back on your classes?” Dean asked, concern heavy in his voice. “You know I can always rope Jess and Sam into helping.”

“I’m sure. Besides, I know you need your time in the studios. You’d go crazy if you had to handle her all day by yourself without any breaks.”

“Maybe. But it would be worth it.”

“I still can’t believe we’re having a kid.”

“Neither can I.” Dean laughed. “She’s going to be beautiful.”

“I wonder which of us she’ll look like.” Castiel breathed, bringing his free hand up to stroke at Dean’s cheek lovingly. “If she’ll have your freckles…”

“Or your cute squinty eyes.” Dean purred back, pressing a kiss to Cas’ nose. “Jesus. Two months is going to fly, isn’t it.”

“If the past seven months are any indicator, than yes.”

“Is it weird that we’re all having kids at the same time? I mean, even Meg’s pregnant.”

“Biology, my beautiful husband. Besides, better to have kids now than when we’re all old and have hip problems.”

“Hey now, no knocking hip problems. You know I’m going to have my fair share of crappy health issues when I’m older.” Dean sighed.

“I’ll love you anyways. And so will Mary.” Castiel whispered, caressing Dean’s cheek softly. “Is your shoulder still hurting? Don’t think I forgot about that.”

“You wouldn’t be my Cas if you did.” Dean closed his eyes and shifted his shoulders a little, before letting out a tense little sigh. “Ah, it’s still a bit sore. Thanks for grabbing the table instead of my shoulders earlier. I’d definitely be feeling that for a while.” He shuddered exaggeratedly. “Not in the sexy way.”

“This is why you need to tell me things. If you hadn’t flinched before I would have, and you’d be grumbling about it all night.” Castiel jabbed Dean in the forehead.

“Well, I guess I’m lucky I have a very observant lover, aren’t I? Observant and very, very, very good in the sack.”

“Natural gift, that.”

“Oh. Trust me. I know.” Dean laughed. “And let me tell you, once my legs have recovered from your thouroughly incredible performance earlier, I’m going to repay the favor.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah. Remember Texas? I’m pretty sure I figured out a few hidden kinks of yours from that trip.”

Castiel’s cheeks flushed a deep pink and his eyes got a glaxed over look in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Texas. That was...quite the trip wasn’t it.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean laughed. “And I have a brand new pair of handcuffs waiting at home for you.”

Castiel perked up at that, eyes going wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Dean laughed, sitting up a little and leaning over so his lips were pressed to Castiel’s ear. He applied a heavy accent to his tone as he purred the words into his ear slowly. “I’m going to lay out like an all you can eat buffet. Gonna cuff you to the bed and eat you out nice and slow. Gonna finger fuck you and use that little purple vibe you love using on my nipples, and then I’m gonna ride you so hard you see stars. Gonna lock that shiny new cock ring around your dick before you can come and make you beg. And when you’re so lost with pleasure, when you think you’ve had enough, I’m gonna sit you up, wrap those cuffed arms around my neck, and fill you up so deep with my dick you’ll understand why I love warming your cock all day. I’ll make you wreath, and when you’ve started trying to ride me with desperation I’ll take hold of you hips and i’ll fuck you hard, pounding and pounding against that sweet little bundle of nerves. And when you’re scratching at my back like a mad man, devouring my filthy,filthy mouth. I’m gonna fuck you full of my seeds, just like you love fucking me full, and then I’m gonna let you go, undo that shiny cock ring and let you cum on my face.”

Castiel let out a whimper, staring at Dean with wide, dilated eyes, fingers gripping impossibly tighter. “Jesus fucking christ.”

“Mmm. Love it when I make you curse.” Dean laughed, nibbling at his husbands earlobe.

“Fuck.”

“Just like that.” Dean purred, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair slowly. “If you didn’t want to be completely overwhelmed you shouldn’t have let me start finger fucking you.”

“I’m defintiely not complaining.” He panted back.

“Are you ready to feel my dick in you? To be thoroughly fucked? I’m not going to go easy on you, you know. I know you can take me, now.”

“Shit, Dean.” Castiel sat up, twisting around to lace his fingers in the short blond locks, pulling him in to a passionate, desperate kiss. “You’re gonna be the end of me.”

Dean let out a full bellied laugh, devouring Castiel’s mouth eagerly when he caught his breath. “Gotta return the favor, you know. You treat me so well, I wanted to get creative. Besides, I’ve been wanting to truly fuck you for a while now. I figure why not combine my newest desire with one of my favorite positions? You know I love riding you to the brink.”

“Oh, oh. I know.” Castiel growled, nibbling at Dean’s bottom lip.

“And you know what I love even more than that?”

“What’s that?” Castiel asked as he trailed his lips down Dean’s neck, unable to keep his hands off. He was so worked up it was a completely unconcious need to mark and claim what was already his.

“You.”

Castiel let out a startled, breathy laugh. “God, Dean. I love you too.”

“And you know what else I love?”

“What?”

“The fact that you saw past my insecurities and bull shit and realized how much I wanted kids. I wouldn’t want to raise a family with anyone else at my side.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dean.”

“I love you.” Dean whispered gently, leaning their foreheads together. “Now and forever.”

“Always.”


	42. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't stop with this story. I was trying to write SGBB and this happened instead.

He still thought about it sometimes, like it was a story he had read somewhere. He skimmed through the pages of his memories. He got caught up, everytime, with how short it had all been. Going through it he knew it had felt like years and years of suffering, living in that fear, that head space that was his most basic self, primal and working without his say so. 

“Cas…” He whispered softly into the semi-darkness of their room. It wasn’t all that late, but his beautiful gold haired daughter lay across his chest, upset by the storm outside. Dean had rocked her to sleep, gently giving her kisses to calm her down and distract her, whispering his love for her as he told her how proud he was of her staying strong during the storm. She’d told him she wasn’t strong, she was scared. He had told her she was smart, she’d accepted her fears and searched for him. There was never anything wrong with that, you can’t be strong all of the time. Sometimes being strong meant accepting weakness. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas responded by his desk. He was writing like always, documenting his thoughts on the day. It was a habit he had started in those dark days that were simmering in Dean’s mind. He finished writing his thought out on the page before sitting up straighter, and turning to look at his husband in the rocking chair. 

“...when you think back on what happened, do you see the details or the summary?” His voice felt too soft, whispering for Mary’s sake, but also a little weary of the ideas that floated in his head.

Castiel blinked at Dean over the rim of his reading glasses. He took them off slowly and put them down on the desk before standing to walk closer and sit on the edge of the bed nearest him. “I think I see it two ways. One, I remember the feel of it, what I felt emotionally. Second, the actions, what we physically went through and had to do.” 

“What’s one of the worst things you can remember thinking?” His voice wavered a little but he gave Cas a weak smile, asking him to indulge him despite the shimmer already stinging his eyes. The humid night had brought up some heavy thoughts as he sat in the silence with his tiny daughter in his arms. 

Cas was quiet for a moment, contemplating as he looked at the man he’d loved for over a decade. His eyes went softer in color as Dean watched his thoughts, saw the old sorrow surfacing. “When you were gone, I can remember a day where the only thought I had was that I would never see you again. I kept trying to replay the days we had spent together, imagining going through the motions for the rest of my life because that was the end of it. No fanfare, no warning. Just poof, you were taken from me.” 

Dean’s lips trembled as his smile crumbled. 

He was silent for a long time, just looking into Cas’ understanding blue eyes. Eyes that still haunted his dreams. “There was one night,” he began in a cracked whisper, “when Alastair came into the basement. He didn’t turn on the lights, just... circled me in the dark. Had me imagine what it would be like-” His voice wavered off. 

Cas’ hand settled on Dean’s gently, thumb stroking over his knuckles. 

“I can taste it like acid.” Dean continued, closing his eyes and turning his hand into Castiel’s, holding tight. He leaned his head against the little blond one tucked under his chin for momentary support. “I remember that first night there, I tried to imagine what it would be like, what he would uncover within me, what he could do with all the memories of you I had made.” He pulled Cas’ hand up to kiss the other man’s knuckles, looking up at him. He took a long shaky moment to continue his thought, to make it through the wave of emotions. “He did everything I feared and more.” His voice wavered. “It made the details so vivid, so true to life, echoed by everything he’d done to me already and told me he planned to do…” 

“What did he make you see?” Cas asked, hesitant. 

“You. You and Sammy in that place, my place. Made me imagine being the one made to do it.” A quick flutter of his lashes disrupted the dampness that had been collected, sending a stream dripping down his face as he kept his gaze turned down to the golden hair beneath his chin. “It felt so real. I felt it happening to you, and it broke me. I prayed you’d come for me, but hanging there e-every night, I couldn’t imagine it. I knew how lucky I’d been with Sammy and Azazel...and I just...I knew there was no way out. There was no escape, and I  knew  it. Time never felt right, I never knew day from night. Every time he came in that room he made it harder and harder to imagine life from before. I couldn’t have even fathomed the life we have now.” He said with a shaky laugh at the thought, staring blankly at his hand on Cas’.

“He made me feel infantile, raw. He brought out fears I’d buried so deep..., he cut into every ragged, sewn up seam I’d made over the years, with you and Bobby and Sammy...and he mutilated them.” He wet dry lips, nervously running his thumb across Cas’ pulse, shaking with the stream of words he was freeing, memories long unspoken.  

“I still hear him at the edge of my dreams, trying to get my attention and drag me back to that...that weakness, the silence, the fear. I dream I’m back there with him and see you under  my  whip,  my  brand,  a-and it makes me sick. Everytime. And holding Mary,” His eyes flickered to the sleeping child, soundly asleep with drool staining her father’s tee-shirt. “I imagine how tiny she is, how fragile, and I see you and Sammy and his family cowering from me, protecting her from me, and I…” His eyes flickered to Cas’ weakly, “and then I see you...holding your hand out for me and taking the weapons away, stripping away the pain and pulling me forward, showing me the real scene...where I was laying under his whips. Where I had no choice.”   
“The real me, the me right now could never hurt you, Castiel. The thought of it makes my skin crawl, and my hands shake.” He weakly lifted his hand away from Cas’ to illustrate his point. “And I don’t know why, I just...I needed you to understand that. I wanted you to know that.” 

“Dean, I don’t know what to say.” Dean’s green eyes were pale, like sea foam and moss. He was staring at Castiel with pained personal satisfaction in his eyes. He had said what he needed to, despite the depth of the lingering mental scars. Castiel still got flutters when he realized how safe Dean felt being able to confess to wounds still not completely gone. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I just...had to say it. I want to promise you I will never, ever, intentionally harm you or our baby girl.” He held his still shaking hand out with pinky extended.

Cas wrapped his finger around Dean’s with his own pinky, and nodded somberly. “It was never a fear I had, Dean.”

Dean looked away quickly, biting the inside of his cheek. Of course, Cas always knew the words that would hit the buttons for all his emotions. Finding it impossible to compose himself before he turned back to Cas, he spoke anyways. “I’ve always been terrified of turning out like  him , Cas.” Dean choked out, tears spilling suddenly down his cheeks with heavy blinks, looking to Cas, more cascading down his cheeks. He bit at his lip hard, looking away, over Mary’s head as he tried to reign in the sudden emotional surge. “I know I’m not a bad person, but at the start Dad wasn’t either. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you, Cas.” 

“Every morning before I get ready for the day,” Cas said softly, gaze unwavering from Dean’s face, wrapping both hands around Dean’s. “I take a moment outside our bedroom door and I thank the heaven’s for returning you to me. For giving us this imperfect life. I thank them for the chance to love you one more day.” 

“Christ, Cas, really?” Dean asked, cheeks flaring with color. He would never get used to the ways Castiel could disarm his heart like that. 

“Of course, Dean.” Cas chuckled, feeling some of their tensions draining as he reached up and gently wiped tears from his husband’s colored cheeks. “And every night after I say goodnight to you, I close my eyes and I listen to your heartbeat in the darkness, hear the life still here, still strong and alive. I listen to your breath close to mine and I thank them again for allowing me this chance to love you and to create this life with you. And then, before I fall asleep I try to imagine tomorrow. Imagine waking up to you and having another day with you.” 

“You’re making that up now, to be poetic.” 

“I’ll save the poetics for when I want to seduce you, Dean. I would not make this up.” 

“You don’t write ‘Dean’ in big sparkly letters all over your journals, too, do ya?” He teased, the last of the tense moment broken by their usual banter. Dean couldn’t help the smile from overtaking his face as he stared across at Castiel and saw the genuine love and acceptance in his eyes. 

“Oh, that I do every day at noon.” Cas said deadpan, eyes sparkling in that way only his eyes could. Dean couldn’t help but feel fond flutters through his heart at the playful edge twinkling in blue.

“For your lessons do you sneak in quotes that match our love lives, too?” 

The twinge of pink on Castiel’s cheeks had Dean gaping in disbelief, caught short that he’d stumbled across this golden information. A bubbling laugh cracked through his chest when it registered, waking the little girl on his chest with the hearty movements. 

“D’ddy?” Her little voice was heavy with sleep, a crinkle on her cheek from the seam of Dean’s tee.

“Dean,” Cas sighed exasperated, standing quickly to gently scoop up the little girl from Dean’s arms as he composed himself. “Hello, my sleepy girl.” He whispered as his flush lingered on his cheeks. 

“Hewwo, Papa.” She said with a little smile, reaching up and putting both hands on her papa’s warm cheeks. She always seemed to know what they were thinking, and her sleepy eyes were searching Cas’ serious blue eyes. 

“Daddy woke you up, huh?” Cas said, throwing Dean an exasperated little look. Mary giggled in his arms as she nodded, loving when her two dads squabbled playfully at each other. “The storm went away. Did you want to try to sleep in your own bed?”

Mary’s eyes flickered to the window, bright hazel eyes catching the light from Cas’ writing desk lamp. “I think I can be bwave.” She said with a little nod of her head, turning to look back at Dean. “Daddy weed me back to sweep?” She gave him her big puppy dog look, studied from her Uncle Sam, a well known expert. 

Dean let out a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Oh course, my lady.” He bowed dramatically as he stood, before swooping in and sliding her out of Cas’ arms in a playful swirl to his hip and safely in his arms as he landed the movement with a big kiss to Cas’ lips. “I’ll see  you  later, Mister Winchester.” 

“Ew! Daddy stowp fwirting!” She pawed at both male’s cheeks as they exchanged another quick kiss. 

“Yeah,  Daddy . Stop flirting.” Cas said straight faced, reaching around to give Dean a quick unseen ass squeeze and pat before stepping away from his flushing husband. 

Dean turned his look to Mary “Papa forgot to give someone a gooooodnight kiss.” Dean sing songed softly, throwing Cas an expectant look. He wasn’t going to let Cas walk away just like that. Completely unfair. 

“Papa got distwacted causea uw daddy.” Mary sighed at Dean, as if reading Dean’s thoughts. 

“Yeah, Dean, someone distracted me.” Cas said as he backtracked to them both, leaning in and kissing her on round little cheeks dusted with freckles. She giggled and pointed at her cheeks again with big sparkling eyes. He planted two more kisses on her cheeks, and a third on her nose before straightening up.

“That’s what love does to you, Mary.” Dean playfully rubbed his nose on Mary’s cheek, smiling warmly at her as he glanced back to Cas’ electric gaze. “When Daddy and Papa flirt its because we love each other. And love is why we have you.” He said with a kiss of his own to her cheek. “Isn’t that right, babe?” 

“Very wise words, Dean.” Cas nodded along. 

“Is that why you gwown ups kiss so much?” Mary asked with a curious little expression. “Uncle Sam said there were wots of ways to wuv.” 

“Uncle Sam is very wise, too.” Cas said with a smile. “He’s right. The way I love you is different than the way I love Daddy, but I’m still able to love you both eternally.” 

“What does eternawy mean?” 

“Forever and ever and ever.” Dean whispered dramatically into her ear, making her giggle and bat at his face. 

“I wuv Papa. I wuv Daddy. I wuv Uncle Sam. I wuv Auntie Jess. I wuv cousin Henwy, too. He wikes to tease me but I think I can still wuv him despite that.” 

“I had the same thoughts about Sammy when he was little.” Dean said, seeing the fascination light in her eyes. She loved hearing her Daddy tell her stories about his life. “How about we make that our bedtime story, huh? Do you want to hear one of Sam n’ Dean’s adventures again?” 

She practically bounced in his arms with excitement, nodding eagerly. “Yea!” 

“Alright!” Dean shifted her gently on his hip and reached for Cas’ arm, tugging him in close as he stepped in to his space again. He smiled, inches from Cas’ warm breath and lidded blue gaze tracking the flick of his tongue over pink lips. Dean did it purposefully. “One for the road?” He purred.

“And one for when you return.” Cas hummed back, leaning in for the kiss with a playful bite at his bottom lip as he pulled away from the two gentle kisses. 

“Alright, little girl. Give Papa a night kiss.” Dean said as he turned to the girl in his arms. She was used to this already, her parents open PDA. 

“Night, Papa.” She said with a big smile, leaning forward to give Cas’ cheek a kiss goodnight. “Wuv you.” 

“Love you too, little angel.” Cas said softly with one last kiss goodnight to her cheek as well. At last the two left the room, Dean carrying his inquisitive daughter back to her room as she started her questioning of Dean’s latest adventure story. 

It was a little over half an hour before Dean returned, finding Castiel sitting up reading in bed. He had his reading glasses low on his nose, sitting in nothing but his boxers in the exact middle of the bed. He had spent the time finishing his journaling for the night before settling down a few moments ago, timing nearly perfect. Mary was a pretty predictable sleeper, and Dean’s stories tended to last about the same length each time. 

“Hello again, Mister Winchester.” Castiel said over the top of the book, raising a brow suggestively at Dean as he folded the pages down over his book marker and set the novel down purposefully. 

“Good evening, Mister Winchester.” Dean echoed back with a playful smile, pausing by the door after closing it with a gentle click. “I’ll be your entertainment for the evening,” He said with a thickly applied accent. “Your secretary made a reservation this morning for my services.” He pulled the shirt from his head as he crept slowly across the room, hips a hypnotic display as he upped his playful antics. He knew Cas’ had a thing for his hips when he did that one little shimmy. As Dean approached, undoing his pants buttons, he could see the track of blue on the emphasized sway he added to his slow stride forward. 

“Yes, I recall.” Castiel played along, eyes glowing with the arousal warming his veins already. “I asked for this model I’d once seen, an Adonis.”

Dean’s cheeks heated, and against his will his eyes flickered away self consciously before he was plastering on a lopsided smirk as he stopped at the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid that model wasn’t available. They sent the ragged mechanic model instead.” He set one knee on the edge of the bed, and then the next, stretching forward to press his lips to the tip of one bare toe tucked under Cas’ knee. “He’s much more experienced.” 

“I see both in one.” Cas’ toes squirmed a little, but Cas maintained his straight postured cross legged pose in the center of the bed, watching Dean with narrowed eyes, taking in the stretched expanse of Dean’s tattooed back and low hanging jeans on his hips.

“I’m not an Adonis, Cas.”

“You are my Adonis, Dean.” Cas rolled his eyes, reaching up and running his fingers through Dean’s soft hair. “I promised poetry to seduce you but every time I look at you I get distracted. Perhaps you’re right. You’re not some flimsy fairytale. You’re a father, and a husband, and mine to love. I would like to ravage you now, Mr. Winchester.” 

Dean settled his hands on Cas’ knees and pushed himself up closer toward Castiel’s hungry gaze. “I believe that’s within the limits of our contract.” 

“I would like to make out with you fiercely and then fuck you with my tongue and fingers until you’re squirming for me.”

“Christ, Cas.” Dean made a strangled sound, black overtaking the green in his gaze. “Who gave you permission to talk dirty?”

“I had a very deep, intimate conversation with your body at our last quarterly meeting.” Cas said dryly, lips barely restraining their smile as he hooked his legs slowly around Dean and pushed him gently over on to his back on the wide bed, watching the way he sank into the blankets with lust blown eyes. “If I’m not mistaken, the words ‘shit, Cas, I love when you talk dirty, fuck me harder’, were amongst the meeting notes.” 

“Well past me wasn’t lying, babe.” He said with a little laugh. 

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Castiel smiled at him, leaning down and pressing soft, dry lips to Dean’s fuller pink ones. It was gentle, like Castiel always started. He placed a kiss to Dean’s stubbled chin, and another against his adam's apple as Dean automatically leaned into the familiar pattern; it was something of a habit Castiel had taken up years ago, as he helped Dean heal their physical relationship; three kisses. 

Dean’s heart still fluttered every time he got those three little kisses. His body automatically kicking into high gear as his arousal spiked ten-fold. He knew those kisses heralded intimacy and pleasure. Castiel had become no less alpha when he’d become a father. In fact, Dean thought his crush over the professor look was mere child's play compared to the hot husband and father to my child kink he’d developed recently. Seeing Castiel raise Mary, staying through all the ups and downs, and still maintaining his focus and calm melted Dean. Knowing Castiel would always be there for them both made Dean weak kneed. 

“Well, Papa,” Dean’s expression glowed with eagerness,eyes sparkling mischievously as he tilted his head to catch Castiel’s eye “what’s on the agenda tonight?” 

Castiel dipped in to give Dean a longer, slower kiss as his hand ghosted along the edges of Dean’s ribs. “Tonight…” Cas pulled back to look down at the faded scars on his husband’s body. He thumbed at one of Dean’s nipples, and along the edge of his tan line, obtained from working out in the sun every morning at the garage. “I want you to close your eyes.” He turned dark blue eyes up quickly, making Dean’s mouth run dry as he saw the meaning reflected in azure.

“Are you…” His voice disappeared as he read Castiel’s intentions in his eyes. He bit at his bottom lip and he brought his hands up between their chests, holding his wrists together. Understanding Dean’s intention, Castiel gently wrapped his hands around Dean’s, pushing his arms up over his head as Dean obediently closed his eyes. There was a crease of worry in his features, but he’d learned long ago to trust Cas.

“Describe what you feel to me.” Castiel instructed, his breath hovering on Dean’s trembling lips. “Right here, right now what do you see?” He tweaked his thumb on Dean’s nipple quickly, causing the submissive man to jump a little. 

“I know you’re there.” Dean whispered back, licking dry lips as he shivered in anticipation. “I feel your breath on my face, your body over mine.” His cheeks darkened to pink as he tilted his head a little, brushing his forehead on Cas’ forearm where it stretched above his head. “Vulnerable.” 

“What else?” Cas leaned in, using his tongue to gently trace that sensitive spot behind Dean’s ear, teasing slowly, pulling his earlobe with his teeth and flicking it with the tip of his tongue as he waited on Dean’s answer. 

“Nervous.” Dean’s breath was hitched, pulse pounding in his ears. He was still so turned on, but he had read that inspiration in Cas’ eyes. He knew he was about to be emotionally wrecked. The way Castiel could undo him, pull apart his fears and the past and seal up the scars with his presence was a process Dean would never understand. That deep gravelly voice whispering into his ear as he struggled to keep his eyes closed nearly broke him all on its own. “I see-” He was afraid to say it, “I see him trying to corrupt your memory…”

“I’m the only one here, Dean.” Cas pressed kisses neatly down his jaw from his ear, across his throat, and down to the bone of his clavicle. He freed one hand from Dean’s wrists to tenderly caress down his arm, down to cup Dean’s side over the raised brand. “Imagine me. Laying where you are.” 

Dean bit at his bottom lip, mind supplying dual imagery. 

“Half-naked, vulnerable, nervous.”

“You’re never nervous.”

“Focus, Dean.” Cas growled low, the vibrations startling Dean as he brought his lips down to Dean’s nipple. He licked the first one with a quick “What am I doing to you? What do I make you feel?” He was dragging his tongue across one of the deeper scars, one he knew was particularly ticklish; extra sensitive. 

Dean felt his senses dry out, heat crackling like the sun across his bare skin. The night was perfect to aid in the quickly warming dance of their bodies. Just warm enough to make it comfortable with a slowly whirring fan in the corner. Dean loved the white noise background. Even now he could feel the breeze tickling the bottom of his toes on the cool sheets. Their perfectly chosen cocoon had only matured with time together. A better mattress that Dean adored, and divine pillows that supported his head juuuuuust so. Even now, splayed across the bed he was surrounded with the perfect buzz of energy to put him in that headspace. 

“Dry. Hot.” He paused. “Electric all over.” 

Cas could hear the soft, subtle tone shift in Dean as he clicked into that spot. He would start using short words, simpler but more explored, brought out from somewhere deep. Clipped, from many days of mental scarring and recovery. 

“Imagine you are the man hovering up here, above me.” Cas instructed. He tickled his way down Dean’s sides, moving to his other nipple with a ghost of hot breath across the expanse of still gorgeously toned pecs, and the soft golden skin. He paused over the other nipple as his hand stopped at Dean’s hip, a single finger tracing along the edge of his low hanging jeans. Dean hadn’t taken them off in his distraction. 

Dean couldn’t help but play the scene in his head. He’d made love to Castiel so many times in the past, had simply fooled around with him enough like this even when they had no time to get distracted. He could imagine being the one hovering up there, teasing Castiel’s body. He could feel the surge of alpha in his veins. He buzzed with the image of being the one in control, while simultaneously giving of himself completely beneath Castiel. 

“What do you want to make me feel tonight?” Castiel whispered up by his ear suddenly, thumb pressing along the seam of the Dean’s jeans. He watched Dean’s face closely, watching the twitch of his eyes under closed lids, the facial muscles moving in just that subtle little way with each emotion Dean went through, each thought. 

Dean swallowed hard, before his lips parted and he tilted his head into Castiel’s breath, slotting his lips in close to Castiel’s mouth. “Weak.” His first word was almost a purr, something primal in the deep rumble. “Exposed.” His one knee came up slightly, pressing up along the inner thigh of Cas’ leg where he was straddling Dean’s left leg. “You belong to me.” 

Cas shivered, tasting the charge of raw power coursing through Dean’s mind, and veins. “What do you want to do to me?” 

“Feast.” 

Castiel swore his toes tingled that time. Even after all this time, Dean condensing his words to their most important meanings, simplest forms, was like live wires being pressed to his circuits. The intensity of Dean’s mind never ceased to amaze him. 

He leaned closer in reward, exchanging a few heated kisses with Dean before he was pressing Dean’s wandering knee down with a sudden shift of his legs, using one shin to pin Dean down. He put temporary heavier pressure on Dean’s wrists held above his head to warn him to reign it in. He plundered Dean’s mouth slower, drawing him back down from that alpha state of mind. 

“Dean.” Castiel pulled back from a kiss Dean chased, gripping Dean’s heavy length through his layers of jeans. He squeezed just a hair, drawing a low rumble of need trembling through the submissive man below him. “Open your eyes.” 

He waited until Dean had, eyes fiercely focused on Castiel’s the moment he was allowed to. 

“What is your safe word?” 

“Alistair.” 

“Grab the headboard.”

Dean responded immediately, feeling Castiel’s hands loosen as he stretched his arms the few inches more to grab the edge of padded slats that comprised their headboard. His fingers locked into the custom design, patterned for beauty and functionality. 

“Do not move your hands.” 

Dean nodded slightly, swallowing thickly as he watched Castiel sit up, both hands coming up to cross his chest as he looked down at Dean. His eyes had gone darker, and Dean knew he would deliver exactly what Alpha him had instructed. 

Castiel went silent, taking in Dean’s body slowly, looking to every exposed inch before he was scooting himself back on the mattress, away from Dean. He gave himself enough room to properly situate his removal of Dean’s remaining clothing. He started with the first button, using both hands to emphasize Dean’s attention on that area even more as he circled the single button Dean had already undone. 

He looked up to Dean’s green gaze, fingers circling that first undone button before undoing the next three.  He reached in to Dean’s undone pants, tracing the defined ridge in the red and black lined cotton boxer briefs. “You are to continue to imagine myself in your place. Imagine every action done to you done to me, visualize taking complete and utter control away from me.” 

He felt the shiver run through Dean, and watched as his eyes narrowed to slits as he watched and waited for his treatment. He felt Dean shift his left foot unconsciously, a habit he had when he was bracing himself for something, trying to prove his freedom and mobility. Castiel caressed Dean’s thigh, gently pulling his outer leg up to bracket his side. He leaned in and kissed the side of his knee firmly, squeezing his hand around Dean’s cock. 

He moved in to action quickly, shifting off the back of the bed as he removed Dean’s pants in one fluid motion. He grabbed the edges of his boxers next and snapped the elastic back down once before removing them just as swiftly. Castiel moved back onto the bed, kneeling at the edge as he leaned forward, pushing Dean’s legs up and out as he came in close, breath tickling along his inner thighs as he watched Dean’s expression dutifully. 

He knew Dean’s body so well now, knew how his own fit into each dip and curve and shape of Dean that he could do this in his sleep. He had once. His fingers came up from his ankle to his knee slowly, scratching blunt nails faintly across Dean’s skin. He felt the goosebumps rise along his thighs, felt the little quack in his thighs as he waited patiently for what Castiel was going to deliver. 

He traced the edge of his nose along the arched member resting across Dean’s belly, breathing moist heat across the flushed head. He ran his fingers down the underside of Dean’s thighs, squeezing when he got to the swell of Dean’s ass. He dug his fingertips into the muscle, hitching Dean’s knees over his shoulders. He smiled to himself with satisfaction as he felt his husband’s toes trace his back. 

“Tell me one thing he made you imagine doing to me.” 

Those toes curled into his back, pinching slightly as Dean’s mind whiplashed him suddenly back to that moment Castiel was making him relive. It was silent for a moment, Dean’s heavy breath heaving from him. “Choking.” 

Castiel looked up to see Dean’s eyes closed firmly. He was immersing himself deeply into the task Castiel has assigned. They shared many nights full of nightmares, finding ways to forget them with a new sensation, a new physical memory in it’s place. He dropped his head, lashing the tip of Dean’s cock with his tongue. He moved one hand to trace the pucker of his hole with a single finger. 

“Tell me one thing he did to me.” 

The answer was a shiver, a dry crack of a breath and a weak response of “Took me.” 

“Tell me one thing I did to him.” 

Dean’s lips trembled into a smile as he grabbed the line Castiel threw him with that question. It was one of those memories that was tinged with a hilarity to it whenever Dean thought of it. “Shot him.” 

“Tell me one thing you imagine doing to me.” 

Dean’s toes curled and uncurled against his back. “Right now?” 

“Yes, Dean.” 

“I think I’d be down for that offer from earlier.” His voice was shaky as he shifted slightly, adjusting his shoulders and grip. His eyes flickered open, though, and he frowned. “No.” He stared up at the ceiling, eyes taking on a far away look. “Ropes.” 

Castiel shivered, watching the thoughts in Dean’s eyes as he sat up slightly. He knew what Dean meant, pressing a gentle kiss to his hip as he slid off the bed and went to the closet. It was going to be one of those kind of nights, then. He took a moment to take the box of their supplies down, extracting the rope, and head back to Dean on the bed where he’d turned his gaze on Castiel once more. There was trepidation in his eyes, but enduring trust. He tied Dean’s wrists gently, loose enough for some mobility still, and then back around the headboard slats. 

He made his way back down Dean’s body with hot kisses, and a lingering moment to plunder his mouth and bring that arousal rocketing back up. He didn’t pause when he got back into place, this time licking a line from tip to base as he rubbed the pad of a finger along Dean’s opening. He had grabbed the lube from under the pillow by Dean’s head as he made his way down, and used his mouth to distract Dean with a brief reward for his cooperation as he spread a small amount on two fingers. 

He tapped the wet pad of a finger gently against Dean’s opening before pushing in firmly. He tasted the drip of pre-cum on his tongue as he slowly pulled his mouth away, licking at the slit gently a few times as he twisted the single finger around with ease. 

“Dean.” Castiel purred softly against the side of his cock. “Keep your eyes closed.” 

“Yes, sir.” Dean whispered. 

Cas rewarded him by pressing in that second finger, scissoring them as he trailed little nibbles along the inside of his thighs. He grazed Dean’s prostate a few times to tease, pausing every few moments to suck deep purple hickeys into the junctions of Dean’s legs and hips that he knew drove the other man nuts. 

“Tell me one thing he had you imagine.” 

Dean’s toes curled into his back again, heels pressing into the sides of his spine as he shifted his hips unconsciously, breaking a little moan from the back of his throat that turned choked as he twisted his arms against his binds and resisted the urge to keep his eyes shut. 

“Breaking fingers.” Castiel hardly heard the words. He responded by proving just how unbroken his fingers were, twisting them fast and hard and pressing into that hot spot inside of him with a little more force than he might normally. It got the reaction he wanted, Dean’s hips bucking up a little, and a gasping moan leaving Dean’s luscious pink lips parted on a pant as he came back down from the jolt. 

“Those are definitely not broken.”

“Very observant, Dean.” Castiel chuckled warmly, rewarding him with a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. He eased his fingers more gently around, starting up a shallow thrust and retreat as he licked along a prominent vein. He gave Dean a moment longer to come back down from the visual he had him recall, before pressing down hard once more, garnering a little startled whimper from Dean, one of his legs falling away from Cas’ shoulders involuntarily. 

“Dean.” 

Cas didn’t even need to say anything more before that leg was hooking back up over his shoulder. He decided to have mercy on his strung up husband, sucking him back into his mouth and teasing him with mouth and fingers until he felt Dean’s heels digging into his back again, toes scrambling at his sides. 

“C-cas…” His breathy voice had Castiel pulling away, stopping Dean right before the brink. 

He pulled off with a purposefully wet pop, pressing a kiss to the twitching head before trailing his tongue up the center of Dean’s chest as he pushed his legs open wide around his body instead of keeping them hooked over him. He brought his free hand up to lace his fingers into Dean’s faintly greying hair, and pulled his head up for a fierce kiss, rocking his own raging hard on, still hidden beneath his boxers, against Dean’s, the silky material gliding smoothly on their heated skin. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean panted breathlessly, eyes obediently still closed.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you with my tongue?” He felt the hot slick of pre-cum soak his boxers, and he glanced quickly down to make sure he hadn’t made his husband come yet. He had plenty more planned. 

Dean shook his head, biting at his bottom lip as he rolled his shoulders slightly to try to ease the tension he carried there. “Use the ring.” 

“Dean…” 

Dean’s eyes flickered open. He felt like a live wire was set to his senses seeing Castiel so close, watching so intently. His mouth ran dry again, and he swallowed roughly before croaking “Cas.” 

“You opened your eyes.” 

“You were about to say no.” 

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Dean.” 

“Cas.”

“We have rules for the ring.” 

“I’m the one who came up with that rule. You can’t use that as a reason to say no.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“You were.” 

“Okay, so I was. But that’s only because I know how you get with the ring on.” 

“I was the one that asked.”

“I wasn’t going to make this quick.” 

“I can take whatever you give me, babe. Promise.”

Cas sighed, sitting back up between Dean’s legs and planting his hands on his hips as he stared in to Dean’s still watching green gaze. “If I use the ring, I’m not going to go any easier on you.” 

“I never asked you to.” 

“Dean.” 

“Cas.” Dean’s lips quirked up. “Get the ring.” 

“For someone that’s tied up, you’re awfully demanding.” Cas huffed, rolling his eyes as he got off the bed once more, walking back to that box of toys they kept locked and out of Mary’s reach. They didn’t want to have to explain BDSM to their toddler, after all. 

“Can’t help it, I married a sex god.” 

“You’ve gotten far too distracted.” Castiel said as he rummaged through the compartments and drawers they’d organized their collection into. He found the right drawer after a moment, extracting a single red cock ring. It reminded him he wanted to get a new one for them. There were times that red color reminded him too much of a certain gag. “Close your eyes.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean obediently complied. 

“Tell me the rules.” 

“I am not allowed to remove the ring myself. I am not allowed to cum until you have. If the ring becomes too much for me to handle I will use the safeword Vulcan.” Dean heard Castiel’s sigh from by the closet, anticipation and nerves rocketing back up as he felt himself sink back into that headspace with the darkness of his closed eyes. He knew Castiel was still a bit uncomfortable with the rules Dean had defined for himself, but he knew Castiel would make good on his promise to never abuse that power. 

“Spread your legs.” 

Dean obeyed with a giddy flutter in his gut, pushing his legs open further. He knew what Castiel was about to do was going to wreck him. Not just the tongue fuck, or the physical pleasure the dexterous male was going to play out on his skin. He knew Castiel was going to break this memory of his to pieces. 

He heard Castiel approach, felt the dip of the bed and the ghost of Castiel’s weight slot in between his thighs again. Even though he expected it, the feel of the cock ring sliding down his aching length made him shiver, feet pressing into the mattress before seeking comfort in the glide of his toes along the edges of Cas’ legs. 

“I’m right here, Dean.” 

He wet his lips and nodded, not trusting his voice as he waited. He kept reminding himself to follow Castiel’s previous instructions. Imagine him in his place. It was both difficult and too easy to do. Every time he thought about Cas being the one beneath him his mind jumped back to the dream that had caused this whole scene to take place. He imagined the red of blood around Castiel’s body, the welt of scars, the purple of broken bones against ragged skin. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“You...hurt.” 

“What do you feel right now?” 

“Strung out.” 

“What am I about to do to you?” 

Dean’s lips twisted up in a tiny smile. “Tongue fuck me.” 

“And what are you going to do?” 

“Imagine doing it to you.” 

“Good.” Castiel wasted no time, grabbing Dean’s hips and hitching them up on his shoulders again, this time higher, as he was now kneeling in the V of Dean’s legs. He grabbed a pillow from by Dean’s head as he did so, pushing it under Dean’s lower back to make the position a bit more comfortable on his abused body. 

He licked once before pressing his tongue in like a spear, tasting the lingering lube. He’d long ago found the one they both prefered best, for this reason and many others. He retreated his tongue only to replace it with the two fingers from before, teasing around the stretched hole with his tongue as Dean’s thighs clamped tighter around his shoulders. 

He teased Dean until the other man was barely able to keep his legs around him anymore, his jaw clamped shut to fight the stream of endless moans and pathetic mewls at the intensity of each press of fingers in and out of him, against that spot, and the way Castiel worked his tongue in between each finger like a snake on his nerves. 

He pulled away from Dean when he felt him start shaking, his cue that if there wasn’t a ring stopping him he’d be making a mess across his belly. He eased away with tender kisses up Dean’s twitching, angry red cock, teasing a few drops of cum from his straining head. 

“My Dean.” He whispered gently, nipping at the skin of his belly as he ascended upwards, gliding along his body until he was hovering over the sweating wreck of a man beneath him. “What do you see?” 

Dean’s lips parted on a silent breath, shoulders trembling faintly from the extreme build up. He shook his head when he couldn’t find the words, squirming beneath Castiel’s hovering weight.

“What do you feel?” 

“Raw.” 

“I’m not done with you, yet.” 

“Yes.” 

Castiel smiled, taking a moment to soak in the wonder that was his husband. He didn’t know how he’d lucked out. His first love was his eternal love, and he couldn’t bear the thought of living this life without him. He leaned in, kissing him passionately as he gave him a moment’s reprieve from the shocks of non-completion. 

“I love you.” 

“Now and forever.” Dean kissed the words back into Castiel’s mouth, using his teeth along Cas’ bottom lip as his form of a thank you for the treatment so far. His reminder to Castiel that he was ready to make him feel good, now. 

“Always.” 

“For eternity, Cas.” 

“Yes.” He echoed Dean’s sentiment with a gentle smile, kissing him again before grabbing his hair, pulling his head back and assaulting his throat with his mouth, trailing down to his clavicle and peppering the skin there with little bruises that would linger longer under his shirt. 

“Imagine me like this, Dean. Naked. Tied up. Sweating and moaning for you, because of you.” 

Dean’s hips rocked up against his without even thinking about it, still strung tight from Castiel’s expert assault before, but craving more. Needing more, wanting to pleasure Castiel any way he could. “Please.”

“Imagine your hands on me, in me, tasting every inch of me.” 

Dean bit his bottom lip hard, imagining being able to give this buzz of pleasure to the other man. He loved the thought, the way it felt seeing the much more heated scene than the one that was trying to slither its way back. “Cas, please.” 

“What do you see?”

“Azure.” 

“For what I am about to do to you, imagine my hands as yours, my lips plundered by yours, my body under your complete control.” He waited for Dean’s shaky nod before he was shifting, sliding the band of his boxers down, out of the way, and rocking his hardened length along the dip of Dean’s hips, grazing his over-sensitive cock with his own heat. He took a single moment to get the lube and coat himself before he was lining himself up. 

He hardly gave Dean a moment before he was pressing in fully, length and heat filling Dean in a familiar, but fierce glide. He knew the extra punch of his hips would jolt that center of Dean’s mind, supplying just enough of the ache to have him rewrite a faded memory. 

Each punch of his hips had Dean’s body shifting up the bed, his arms tensing as he attempted to brace himself on the slats and rock his hips back into each of Cas’ firm thrusts, rolling his hips into them whenever he had the mind to do so. Having sex with Castiel never got old. Being intimate with Cas was his drug of choice, and despite the weird storm Cas managed to brew under his skin every time with the waiver of memories, he couldn’t get enough. 

He couldn’t get enough of each taste, each caress, each tease of fingers pinching his nipples, grazing his scars, lips on his earlobes and shoulders. He knew Cas was getting close by the shudder of his hands on Dean’s sides, the moment longer between each thrust, and then his hand was suddenly there, around his throat, just the one. His breath hitched, his body locked up, his mind supplied that harsh imagery Castiel was purposefully trying to demolish in him. His fingers and toes tingled, his back bowed, and his feet scrambled as he felt Cas’ fingers around his trapped cock. His head went dizzy, dots splintered his closed eyes. Cas shifted just that hair he needed to truly punish his prostate. 

He didn’t even know he had gasped the word “vulcan” because it all happened so fast. He felt Cas filling him hot, deep and full with a few final punches of his hips as his fingers retreated, taking the ring with them, and let go of his neck. He felt his whole body buzzing, didn’t realize he had cum, and didn’t know when his eyes had opened to stare up at the blue eyed blur hovering over him. 

He could see the concern in Castiel’s eyes, saw his lips move, but couldn’t comprehend. The shape of his name of those continually chapped lips did nothing to subside the aftermath of what Castiel had just done to him. Hell, he wasn’t sure what had just happened. He blinked wide eyes up at Castiel, brow coming down in a furrow as he saw the layers of emotion in Castiel’s eyes. Hesitant pride, uncertain worry, and satisfaction for being able to wreck Dean so completely.

Dean hadn’t even felt Castiel pull out and away, until he shifted his hips slightly, felt the emptiness and the drip of cum on his skin, and glanced to see Castiel perched on his knees still, hands on Dean’s hips waiting patiently to make sure he was fine. 

When he saw Dean looking, coming back to himself, Castiel reached up and undid the ropes around his wrists. He leaned in and pressed two kisses to his wrists where the ropes had been, thumb caressing red but unbroken skin. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel’s soft voice sent a shiver through his still electrified body. 

“...” He opened his mouth to try to speak, but he couldn’t make a sound, lips left parted and silent. 

“Did I push it too far?”

Dean shook his head instantly at the tone of worry. He blinked at his hands as Cas carefully eased them down from above his head. They were shaking, HE was shaking, but he couldn’t tell his body to stop. He frowned as his own hands. He felt limp, loose, sated yet shaking, covered in a cooling layer of sweat and his own cum. 

“I’m going to grab a washcloth.” Castiel pressed gentle kisses to the knuckles of both his hands before carefully guiding them to Dean’s side. He carefully pulled the pillow from under Dean’s lower back, easing him to a more restful position with a glide of his fingers along his hip bones, and the string of bruises he’d left with his mouth. 

It took a while even after Cas came back to wipe them both off, before Dean was able to come back to reality. Cas lay by his side, watching him patiently and brushing his fingers through Dean’s wild locks as he propped himself up with his other arm. When he was ready, Dean slowly turned his head to the side and up, eyes blinking up at Cas’ watching gaze. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” Cas echoed back with a relieved smile. “You okay?”

“I think so…” He glanced to where he lifted a hand, unaware he’d been rubbing at the red marks since Castiel returned from the bathroom. It was still shaking, but less visibly than before. He tilted his head and peered up at Cas through his lashes, cheeks heating with embarrassment. “What did I do?” 

Castiel’s brows furrowed, wondering what the last comprehensive moment for Dean had been. He debated more detail, before settling on what was worrying him the most. “You said ‘vulcan’.” 

“What?” Dean’s voice was a croak, surprise lighting cleared eyes. 

“I choked you.” 

Dean stared up at Cas, furrow deepening his brow as he frowned at his husband. “Yes.” 

“You’ve never used that safeword before.” 

“Never needed to.” Dean murmured back, turning onto his side with a slight struggle, body feeling too loose, sated and half drunk. Moving from this spot wasn’t going to happen any time soon, but he needed to face Castiel for this.  

“It was too much.” Cas’ expression fell. 

“No.” Dean shook his head, reaching to cup Cas’ cheek as he twisted his legs into Cas’ slowly. 

“What?” Cas’ head tilted further into his supporting hand as the other stilled over Dean’s chest, above his heart. 

“I said ‘no’.” Dean traced his thumb on Cas’ pouting lower lip. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re still shaking.” 

“Cas, you asked me to imagine you in my place. I can’t...verbalize it, but...I did. I saw you, felt you, did this to you with those memories in my veins.” Dean drew Cas down for a softer than expected kiss, fingers trembling where he cupped Cas’ jaw. “You wrecked me perfectly.” 

“You’re okay?” 

“Beyond blissed out, babe.” Dean whispered into another kiss, lips lazy and lovely as they pressed into Cas’ automatically, seeking the comfort of his best friend’s embrace as he reached out, wrapping an arm over Cas’ side and pulled him closer. “Stop worrying and start snuggling.”

“Yes, sir.” Cas said with a fond roll of his eyes, strong arms encasing Dean’s stilled frame. Pride curled hot in his belly as he ravished Dean goodnight with deep, slow, hungry kisses. Dean fell asleep chasing Cas’ kisses, the blue eyed angel fondly tracing memories into Dean’s skin. With a childish smile, sleep clinging to his lashes, Cas leaned in, pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead and drew a simple heart shape over Dean’s chest. 

“Thank you for giving him back to me. Thank you for letting me love him another day.” He whispered the words to no one, to anything that might be out there listening. “Thank you for this memory.” He caressed Dean’s cheek softly before laying his head down, lacing their fingers between their chests, and falling asleep with a smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> Pictures to go along with fic can be found at waffle-san.tumblr.com under the "Tracing Memories" tag. I'll be adding them to the chapters as I write, if I have time. If there are any fanart pics that you want/need credited just message me on tumblr or leave a comment and I'll add you're name. I just kind of collected with keeping track of who's manip or art it was.


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